


Sweet Dreams, Beautiful Nightmare

by Magical_Devil_Alex



Series: Full Length Fics [1]
Category: Markiplier Egos, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Gore, Character Death, Completed, Deals with Demons, Death, Demons, Dreams and Nightmares, Fighting, First full Length Work, Kinda, M/M, Mark is a young boi, Monster Blood and Gore, Monsters, Murder, Music, Near Death Experiences, Seizures, Tags to be added, injuries, protective dark, yee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2019-03-30 23:30:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 47,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13962444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magical_Devil_Alex/pseuds/Magical_Devil_Alex
Summary: “When you're tucked away in bed,Eyes shut tight in the darknessWhen the visions inside your headBecome haunting and lifelessJust call my nameAnd I’ll appear by your sideI’ll give you sweet dreamsThat they always try to hideI’m your beautiful nightmareTrapped within your soulThe lullaby of the DarkShall forever be there, always know.”





	1. Lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This will be my first full length fic on this cite, and right now I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm pretty excited for this, so enjoy!

It was so dark. Why was it always so dark?

Mark wandered in the sea of darkness, fear and a numbing cold filling his veins. It was so cold; Mark was sure if he could see his hands that they would be frozen, ice chipping off while blue lines cracked and shattered. Wasn’t there another word for it? He was pretty sure he’s heard his mom say it once or twice before, but he couldn’t remember.

The young boy rubbed his arms with his hands in an attempt to warm up, teeth chattering loudly, being the only sound that could be heard in the deafening darkness. Each footstep was muffled to the point of being non existent. He wasn’t even sure if he was walking anymore it was so quiet.

That’s what terrified him the most; the fact that he couldn’t hear anything. Everything around him felt so dead, yet so alive at the same time. He wished he at least had a light to guide him like the heroes in the movies did.

Hissing from every corner of the darkness filled his ears. Mark’s heart sped up when he recognized the sound, the sound that filled the young boy’s nightmares every night.

Monsters.

Adrenaline kicking in, Mark forgot about his cold and numb feet and took off, running blindly into the darkness. He couldn’t let them catch up to him, he couldn’t let them torture him like they always did.

With each step Mark took, a shock of pain pulsed through his nerves, but he refused to slow down. The cold air filled his lungs with each breath, and with each gulp of air that filled him, drowsiness and and what felt like poison consumed his mind. Mark started coughing harshly at the sudden poison in the air, steps stuttering and body shaking harder.

The hissing around him grew even stronger, the sound mocking Mark. The young boy panicked, trying to pump his legs harder in order to get away from the monsters. With no warning, an arm wrapped around his legs, causing him to yelp and fall to the frozen, unforgiving ground. His hands screamed in pain, and they boy was almost positive they were about to fall of.

Mark struggled in the hold, wiggling so that he wasn’t facing the ground. “Let me go!” he yelled, kicking his legs to make the monster holding him release him. The hand only pinned his legs harshly to the ground, causing Mark to let out a noise of frustration.

He froze all movement when he saw those horrible, glowing red eyes.

It was the only light in the consuming darkness around them, just enough to illuminate the face of the monster he knew all too well. Attached to those red eyes was a body made out of pure shadows, even colder than the world around him. The clawed hands that grasped onto Mark burned his skin, undoubtedly drawing blood.

The monster smiled, showing off its sharp and jagged teeth. From all around them, more hissing filled the air, minions of the monster that took turns haunting his nightmares. Mark whimpered, using what little strength he had left to try and escape, only to have the monster grip his legs tighter. The talons dug into his soft flesh, more warm blood running down them.

The young boy cried out, tears burning behind his eyes.

“Go away! You’re not real! You’re not real!” he cried, closing his eyes. It was all just in his head. Right? He would wake up any second now, safe and sound in his warm bed, mom and dad there to comfort him and tell him it was just another nightmare, and the monsters would leave him alone for another day.

A single claw ran down his face, tracing his tears much more gently than a monster ever should be able to. Mark shivered, helpless with fear and pain. The acid in the air hadn’t disappeared, if anything it had grown stronger. The boy felt like he was suffocating, heart in his throat and nerves on fire, lungs protesting with each breath.   

Tears poured from his eyes, sniffling and sobbing joining the chorus of hissing from the creatures.

The red eyed monster smiled wider at this, teeth taking up his entire face. Mark watched paralyzed as the monsters jaw unhinged, a long, black tongue slithering out as if it had a mind of its own.

At that moment, the creatures moved in. Some wrapped around his torso, making it impossible for the boy to move. Others went to his arms and neck, pinning them to his sides and revoking his ability to turn his head, forcing him to stare at the monster.

Mark cried harder, trying to thrash in the creatures hold to no avail. They had him tight.

The monster looked delighted at Mark’s defeat, eyes glowing brighter and claws reaching longer. They looked sharp enough to rip through his body, Mark thought in horror. Deadly enough to kill his soul in real life.

“Please,” he hiccuped, desperate for anything from these heartless beings, or at least, for someone to save him from them. “Help.”

The monsters looked amused at his begging, cold grip tightening on the boy. Mark choked, closing his eyes when he saw the red eyed monster raise both of his claws.

“I don’t wanna die,” he whispered with the last of his breath, going limp.

_THUMP_

_THUMP_

**_THUMP_ **

With no warning, Mark was suddenly ripped from the creature’s hold, flying in the air and landing on his backside. The boy gasped, air flooding his deprived lungs and opening his eyes. He couldn’t see anything around him anymore, the light of the monsters eyes gone, but he could hear everything clear as day.

He could hear the sounds of gurgling, of snapping limbs, and of a sharp wind cutting through everything. Screams echoed through Mark’s skull, every sound making him flinch and cower. The boy curled into a ball, burying his face into his knees and covering his ears to try and block everything out. It didn’t work much, the lack of sight putting every other sense on hyperdrive.

He could smell the metallic rot that drifted to his nose.

He could feel every shift of the shadows around him, freezing air whipping through his thin cloths.

He could practically taste the dust that thickened the air, making it even harder for him to breath.

And most noticeably, he could hear _everything._ The sound of something slicing through the air never stopped, the roar of someone yelling in rage never ceased. Mark didn’t want to know where or what the sounds came from. He wanted to feel safe again, go somewhere far away from here.

The boy continued to shiver and shake as the last of the noises faded out. The world became deadly silent again, the only sounds the be heard was someone breathing heavily. Mark still refused to show his face, afraid of what kind of creature he would find in front of him.

_Please go away,_ he begged in his mind. _Please leave me alone and let me wake up._

What Mark thought was clicking shoes pierced through the silence. His breath hitched, panic clutching at his heart. Despite him not wanting to see the creature that did all of this, the boy removed his face from his knees, scrambling back in fear.

“No no no,” he breathed, breath quickening as the clicking shoes grew closer. “G-go aw-away!” he started crying again, the pain in his legs and face flaring at the sudden strain.

The clicking stopped just as abrupt as it had started, and Mark held his breath. He had an undeniable feeling that the creature was right in front of him, towering in the shadows that he couldn’t see.

So gentle and soft that he almost didn’t feel it, what Mark thought was a hand caressed his face, right below the cut the monster had made. The boy flinched slightly, quivering at the touch, not sure what to think of it. It didn’t seem to have malicious intent like the monsters did, in fact it reminded him of his mom when she comforted him. 

The caress continued, trailing down his face and arms in a soothing way. Mark slowly relax into it, drinking in the nice feeling that the hands held. They were cool, but not in the way the world was. This cool made him think of Winter’s first snow, light and blanketing at the same time.

When the cool got to his cut up legs, Mark hissed. It didn’t hurt, but it was still an uncomfortable feeling. The cool from the creatures hands released an odd tingling feeling, like a burn when you rub aloe plant gel on it.

The creatures hands remained gentle as it ran its hands down the cuts, the cool tingling following. Mark could feel his skin reforming at the touch, healing slowly but surely. The boy couldn’t see it, but he was in awe at the magic happening right in front of him. Maybe be the creature wasn’t like the monsters that hurt him in his nightmares. But if it wasn’t, what was it?

Mark looked up to where he believed the creature was. He didn’t notice it before, but now it looked like blue and red lights were bending in the air, barely bright enough to see. And it seemed the bending lights were emitting a humming sound, calming Mark’s tense muscles and threading through his thoughts. It was much better than the silence that plagued the air a few minutes ago.

Mark watched as the blue and red lights grew, surrounding him with their gentle humming. It surprised him when he didn’t feel threatened or endangered, in fact he welcomed their presence. They wove around him, carefully lifting him up and off the hard ground. They moved him towards where the creature was, Mark only able to see the outline of what he thought was a man. Once the boy was close, the man sat down, bringing Mark with him.

Like a mother cat would to her kits, the lights placed him into what he could only assume was the creatures lap. That cool feeling that came from their hands was now all around him, the burning cold fading away and the lights hugging him close. Mark allowed himself to sigh and sink into the creatures comforting hold, no longer afraid of him. Arms wrapped around him protectively, blocking out the horrible darkness around them and replacing it with security. Even the poisonous air disappeared, the boy’s mind and body shaking the drowsy and aching feeling that it created.

Mark curled around the creature, molding so that his face was buried in the others chest. He smelled like dark chocolate and raspberries, something Mark would never expect from the things in his nightmares.

But was this creature really apart of his nightmare?

It didn’t seem like it, seeing that this creature never hurt him or tried to scare him. Than what was it?

The creature began humming along with the lights, voice deep and smooth. Within a few moments, the creature started singing, rocking the boy back and forth as he did.

**_“When your tucked away in bed,_ **

**_Eyes shut tight in the darkness_ **

**_When the visions inside your head_ **

**_Become haunting and lifeless_ **

**_Just call my name_ **

**_And I’ll appear by your side_ **

**_I’ll give you sweet dreams_ **

**_That they always try to hide_ **

**_I’m your beautiful nightmare_ **

**_Trapped within your soul_ **

**_The lullaby of the Dark_ **

**_Shall forever be there, always know.”_ **

Mark’s eyes became heavy, body sated in peace. The rocking, the softly humming lights, and the creature's voice was steadily putting him to sleep. He burrowed deeper into the creatures arms, wanting to be as close as possible. It didn’t seem to mind, chuckling as it used one of its hands to card through Mark’s hair.

**“Don’t worry,”** it whispered by his ear. **“The nightmares can’t find you with me.”**

The boy believed him. He knew at that moment that he trusted this creature with his life.

With the last of his consciousness leaving him, the last thing Mark saw was deep, black eyes, as dark as the nightmare around him.


	2. Hunted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to those who commented or left kudos! Here's your second chapter~

Mark slowly opened his eyes, sleep threatening to take him back into his dreams. He didn’t remember his dreams very much, but the image of some creature holding him securely and singing to him remained sharp and clear in his mind.  

The boy was cocooned in his blankets, the warmth making it harder for his mind to wake up. He sighed and hugged his pillow, wishing he could just fall asleep again, but for whatever reason, he felt something was blocking him from doing so. He grumbled in frustration, untangling himself from the soft blankets, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he did.

Limbs still stiff and weak from sleep, Mark gradually stood up, immediately wishing for the warmth of the bed again. He glanced at his clock next to him, which was covered in various stickers of the solar system. To his complete and utter shock, the time read _10:11._

The young boy gaped at the time, scarcely believing his eyes. He hasn’t slept that long in ages! For as long as he could remember, he’s always been awoken by nightmares, thrashing and kicking until he woke himself up. The latest he’s ever slept was probably 5 a.m, when it was still dark outside and the nightmares still haunted him with the shadows and the sound of a lone owl. Afterwards he’s never be able to fall back to sleep, to terrified of what awaited him when he did. Days would crawl by, dark circles under his eyes and drowsiness following him wherever he went. At the end of the day, he would collapse from exhaustion, only to repeat the cycle. It was miserable.  

Mark tore his gaze away from the clock, a giddy feeling growing in his chest. The nightmares went away!

Sleepiness now gone, Mark bounced happily to his door covered in various cartoon characters, opening it and running downstairs, where the rest of his family was. His mom smiled at his happy expression, asking how he slept. The boy replied that he slept great, and told her about how some creature had made the nightmares go away.

The mother watched fondly as her son gleefully described how the monsters were defeated by this creature, and then how they never came back after. She was delighted; her son hasn’t had sleep without nightmares in years. They had consulted doctor after doctor, medication after medication, but nothing ever seemed to help. She could very clearly recall Mark screaming at the top of his lungs like he was being murdered, rushing into his room with her husband right behind, only to see him trashing and begging for it to stop. Many of times when this happened, he stopped breathing, choking like someone was strangling him, lips turning blue. They had to forcefully wake him up by any means necessary, even if it meant hurting him when this happened. It terrified the mother every single moment in the night, wondering if one day she would wake up to her son dead.

 _Please,_ she thought in her mind, watching him sit down at the table with his father and brother. _Please let him be at peace. Please give him sweet dreams instead of horrible nightmares._  

  
  


Mark was running.

He didn’t know when it started or why, but all he knew is that he had to. He was in danger, they were coming for him. If he stopped, they would get him, hurt him, torture him. He had to keep going.

All around him was a forest, filled with vines, rocks and animals that Mark only caught glimpses of. He was positive the animals were just monsters in disguise, waiting to pounce on him if he ever showed weakness or stopped. He could hear hissing, growls, howls in the distance, all making Mark’s skin prickle and his hair stand up.

The boy swatted at the low hanging branches, kicked up rocks and ran through creeks. In the back of his mind he thought he was making to much noise; they would find him easier, but he couldn’t make himself slow down. Even when a thorn impaled his foot, causing him to limp, even when he tangled his arm around a vine, taking it with him, he didn’t allow himself to slow.

A deep, echoing laugh rumbled through the forest, chilling the young boy to the bone. His breath came out short and unsteady, muscles aching from the running. He ignored this, pumping his legs harder. The thorn in his foot throbbed, shoving deeper and deeper as he ran.

More hissing. The howl came again, closer this time. The vines started swaying, reaching out as if they intended to snatch him up and strangle him. The boy tried to avoid them, but the forest was teeming with the vines. He couldn’t dodge them forever.

Just as Mark jumped over a large rock, they struck. A vine, covered in thorns, latched onto his leg and squeezed. The young boy yelled out, tumbling to the ground. All of his already thin air was forced out of his lungs, and he was left gasping and stunned as the vine creeped further up his thigh, drawing blood and leaving his leg unmovable.

Another laugh slapped the air, Mark freezing in fear. His heart was racing thousands of miles per hour, and faintly he wondered if he could have a heart attack.

Trying to calm himself, the boy used all of his might to untangle the vine from him, only to cry out in pain once he realized that the thorns were embedding in his skin. Tears pricked his eyes as he tried again, screaming this time as the vine gived, blood now pouring from the wounds. Mark grunted, pulling more and more of the vine off of him.

The howling only spurred him on.

Glancing up, Mark saw something slithering through the trees, fangs gleaming in the shadows. Hissing grew louder with each moment, and adrenaline flooded his system.

_They’re coming._

Determined to get away, Mark gave one last tug, the vine releasing him completely. Scrambling to his feet, the boy let out a yelp of pain as he put weight on his leg, and nearly fell to the ground again. The monsters hissed in delight at seeing him so weak, and Mark pushed back his tears as much as he could, stumbling away. Mind numbing pain rocketed through his body with each shift, blood continuing to flow like a waterfall.

 _"You can’t escape us, Mark,”_ taunted the voice. In the shadows, glowing blue eyes popped into existence. The howl that followed stopped his heart momentarily, so loud and so close that it shook the trees. More vines reached out to him, scratching up his arms and making him lightheaded with blood loss. His blood started to feel like fire; burning his skin and sizzling as it dripped onto the forest floor.

With no warning, the forest suddenly became a clearing, thick with tall grass, sun high above, glaring down at the boy below. A rush of relief filled Mark, limping towards the glass, glad to no longer have to deal with the dark forest.

The boy had only gone a few feet when he nearly dived into an abyss.

Mark slipped on the loose rocks, watching in horror as they fell into the darkness, no sound of them hitting the ground as they disappeared. Blood dribbled down his arms and legs, free falling after the rocks.

_“Looks like we have you now, little boy.”_

Mark whipped around, body protesting at the movement. His limbs had become stiff and sore, vision swimming with different colors as he tried to focus on the world around him.  Breathing became difficult, lungs stopping after each breath taken. Mark’s knees were shaking, struggling to keep him upright. What in the world? He had been fine a mere minute ago, what had changed? He was used to the blood loss, but this was something different.

The boy had no time to ponder this, however. Standing a few feet away sat an army made entirely of his nightmares. Snakes made of shadows and death, killing everything their slimy bodies touched. Dozens of giant, silver wolves with jagged, glass teeth, eyes a nauseating blue. And of course, the Hunter.

The Hunter was another monster that Mark commonly saw in his nightmares. That wasn’t his actual name, but the boy had always called him that due to his appearance; tan leather boots, gloves, and belt, brown slacks and a light yellow button up shirt that never failed to remind Mark of one of those safari hunters from the documentaries. He also sported a hunting hat, each marked with a sample from his trophies. A stain of blood from a tiger, the fur of a grizzly bear, the tongue of an alligator, and one blank spot on the front that he claimed to reserve for Mark’s flesh.

Mark didn't like the Hunter very much.

The boy gulped at the sight of him, fearfully watching as he grew closer. A large silver knife was in his left hand, a gun in the other. The Hunter smiled maniacally, eyes swirling with a different kind of madness Mark couldn’t begin to understand.

 _“What did I always tell you? A hunter never loses his prey,”_ the Hunter said, steadily moving closer and closer. The boy tried to find a way out, but the abyss was the only place to go. Mark was cornered. He almost fell backwards trying to back up, eyes darting to the never ending blackness below.

“N-no,” Mark choked out, voice hoarse as he put up his hands for some sort of protection. “Y-y-your not r-real! G-go away!”

The Hunter chuckled, now only two yards away. _“Believe me, little one. I am very much real. And now you’re_ **_mine.”_ **

With that, the Hunter lunged, knife and gun pointing right at him. He gripped Mark with iron hands, pulling him back from the edge of the abyss. Mark cried out as the knife was dragged across his neck, just hard enough to draw his boiling blood. The Hunter looked delighted at the slight, licking at the red liquid from his knife.

 _“Nice and sweet,”_ he exclaimed, pupils dilated and voice slurring. _“Just like you.”_

Mark’s eyes became dinner plates as he felt the cool barrel of the gun press against his head. The chamber was loaded, the sound sending a shock wave through his body. Heart in this throat, the boy knew he only had moments to live.

“Help!”

The Hunter blinked, surprised at the boy’s last words. The snakes and wolves seemed to laugh, finding it amusing that the last moments living would be begging for his life.

 _“Sweet dreams, Mark,”_ the Hunter said, pressing the barrel harder into his skull.

Mark squeezed his eyes shut, heart about to fly out of his chest. He went limp, all fight leaving his body.

**_“HUNTER!”_ **

Mark’s eyes flew opened at the familiar voice. Rage and death ozed from it, echoing sharply through the clearing, making the ground tremble and the air still. For the first time since Mark could remember, the Hunter had fear in his eyes. The madman dropped the young boy, who landed limply on the shifting ground.

 _“Dark, I-”_ Mark heard the Hunter say fearfully, the snakes and wolves cowering back with him. A large, black shadow landed in front of him, blocking the boy’s view of the Hunter. Tentacle like appendages lashed out, darkening the sky and filling the world with the sound of cracking bones and harsh, ear splitting ringing.

The boy weakly covered his ears, trying to block out the noise. It was horrible, and it terrified him. He wanted to cry, but his body didn’t have the strength to do so. He couldn’t even close his eyes, only watch as the horrible black grew and grew.

 **_“You’ll pay greatly for this,”_ ** growled the shadow. **_“You’ll never hurt him AGAIN!”_ **

_“Dark, please,”_ the Hunter begged, knife and gun falling from his hold. _“Let’s talk about this-”_

In the blink of an eye, a tentacle impaled the Hunter in the chest, ceasing all talking. He looked down in shock, black blood dripping from his mouth.

After that, it was pure chaos. Mark had trouble keeping up with what was going on, whether from the inability to move or the sheer amount of carnage going on, he didn’t know. He could see the shadows rip the Hunter to shreds, limbs exploding as more tentacles stabbed and strangled him. Black blood speud everywhere, drops of it landing on the boy.

The wolves and snakes weren’t spared either. More shadow surrounded them, preventing any means of escape. The wolves whimpered, snakes hissing in fear as the darkness closed in, doing the same thing that was done to their master. Bones snapping and gurgled yelps filled the air, each one of them making Mark want to cry. He just wanted to wake up, for his heart to calm down and for this to all be over.

After a few horrible minutes, the sounds stopped. No more yelling. No more blood. No more snapping bones. No more Hunter.

The shadows retreated, forming into a man that Mark could only see the back of. Red and blue lights formed around his blurry figure, the familiar humming noise breaking the silence. He turned, but even still the boy couldn’t get a good look at him. His vision swam and blurred, the landscape turning to mush the longer he looked at it. He thought to man was closer now, though it was hard to tell. A deep voice reached his ears, but he couldn’t process what was said. He was being touched, but he couldn't feel it. All Mark could was let his eyes drift close, lights shining around him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for Reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	3. Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hope to get one more chapter up before my spring break, but I might not be able to. Anyways, here's your third chapter~

When Mark opened his eyes, everything hurt. His muscles ached, head screaming out in pain, foot throbbing with heat. But there was that cool, tingling feeling slowly consuming him, gentle strokes of a hand carding through his hair. He was laying on something soft and comfortable, humming from a voice reaching his ears. 

The boy thought he heard the same voice mutter something about nasty poison, the cool covering his legs and arms where he had been cut… by what? Confusion filled his mind, and he tried to sit up, only to be firmly pushed back down. His eyes could faintly make out the outline of someone, a man by the looks of it, black red and blue colors lining the sketchy appearance that he couldn’t make out.

**“Go back to sleep, dear,”** soothed the man.  **“I promise you’ll feel better when you wake up again.”** Cold lips pressed into his forehead, coaxing Mark back into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

The next time Mark woke up, he really did felt better. Most of the pain was gone, replaced by comfort and security. He rolled over to his side, snuggling into the softness that he was laying on, something warm and sweet present in the air. He sighed contently, not wanting to move.

**_“Maarrrrrk.”_ **

The boy whined, attempting to tune out the voice. It was the same voice from that man, the one with the glowing lights, and while Mark wanted to meet him, he also just wanted to sleep. He hasn’t slept like this in a long time, no fear of nightmares taking over, no death and no horrific images. He liked it better that way.

A low chuckle came from the same man. It sounded far away, like he was communicating through water.   

**_“Common dear, don’t you want to see what dreams you can make here?”_ ** the man slightly teased.

Mark’s eyes opened in confusion, seeing grass swaying and flowers of all colors around him. Dreams? But wasn’t that what the nightmares were? Terrible dreams? Why would he want to make more?

**_“I promise you little one, there are more to dreams than those nightmares. I can show you if you’d like.”_ **

Mark slowly sat up, rubbing at his itchy eyes. He was just starting to hear the faint sounds around him, the tweeting of birds, the buzz of bees and other bugs, the chitter of animals running around. Where was he? Was he still asleep? That felt impossible, seeing that the world around him was beautiful and happy, so unlike the visions he’s grown accustomed to.

He stood up, legs easily taking his weight. Weren’t they cut up? Wasn’t his foot hurt? They didn’t feel that way now, and when he lifted up a pant leg to investigate, he found no evidence of scars. His mind flashed back to the first time he woke up; the cool filling him. And when he had that other nightmare, the hands healing him with a touch.

Mark slowly turned in a circle, taking in the world around him, the bright blue sky, the beaming sun, and the animals. He was positive he saw a unicorn roaming the grassfields, a miniature dragon swoop through the sky. They took his breath away, wonder taking over him. A large grin appeared on his face, giggles escaping his lips.

What Mark could only describe as a pixie flew in front of his face, observing him. She was gorgeous, lavender skin with indigo hair, fuchsia wings fluttering behind her. She darted around the boy, touching his hair and face, making him giggle. She seemed to light up at the sound, glowing like a firefly. She said something in a language Mark didn’t understand, chirping and clicking away before disappearing in a flash. The boy felt a pang of disappointment, sad to have lost a friend so soon.

**“This is nice, isn’t it?”**

Mark whipped around, eyes wide, but there was no fear, only surprise. Standing in front of him a few feet away way was what Mark could only assume was the man with the healing touch. He was a stark contrast to the world around him; monochrome and bleak against the colorful and bright landscape. He was wearing a suit much like his dad would wear, pristine and perfect, not a wrinkle in sight, skin a light, colorless grey. Black hair falling over a single eye, both which were pitch black, pupil almost unable to be seen. The only real color he had were the lights that bended all around him, red and blue mixing with the dark aura he presented, and the edges of his person were fuzzy, like he was a static image. Compared to Mark, he was a giant standing next to an ant.

The boy stared up at him, expecting some sort of warning signs to pop into his head, telling him that this man was dangerous, that he was just another monster hidden in disguise. No such feeling ever occurred.

The man smiled, and despite his dark appearance, the smile was warm and gentle. Mark suddenly felt bashful and shy, gaze lowering and hands wringing together.

“Hi,” he mumbled, hoping he was loud enough to be heard. The being chuckled again, Mark seeing his feet take a step closer. “I-I like this better than the nightmares,” he said, sparing a glance up. The man put his arms behind his back, leaning in from the waist down to be eyes level with the boy.

**“I thought you would,”** he said, and Mark noticed how his voice sounded like it had multiple layers, all merging together. The man put out one of his hands.  **“My name is Dark. I’ve been wanting to meet you for a very long time.”**

Mark blinked, gradually grabbing Dark’s hand with his own, which was almost twice the size of the boy’s. The being looked on patiently, not at all phased by the boy’s hesitation. In the back of his mind, Mark thought that Dark seemed like an oddly appropriate name for him.

Dark’s hand was cold, but the boy found that he didn’t mind much. It wasn’t like the cold from his nightmares, which was harsh and killing, but relaxing, like a nice breeze on a hot summer day. They shook hands, Dark’s grip firm and strong. They pulled away, Mark continuing to stare at him in slight awe, not fully believing what was in front of him.

“Can you make them go away?” he blurted out. “The nightmares? Please…” he trailed off, suddenly embarrassed, but Dark didn’t find the question odd.

**“Of course. I’ll make sure all you nightmares go away, but…”** he stopped a little too dramatically for Mark’s taste, mischief in the beings dark eyes.  **“You must join my company. We can talk, sleep, whatever you want, but it must be together. Deal?”** he raised an eyebrow, holding up his hand again.

Mark didn’t hesitate. All he had to do was be with Dark and the nightmares would all go away? You didn’t need to ask him twice. He eagerly grapsed Dark’s hand, yelling out, “deal!” There was a burning flash from where their hands connected, and Mark yelped, suddenly terrified, but he didn’t let go. He couldn’t even if he wanted to; Dark’s grip on him was too tight for him to pull away from. The red and blue lights swirled in a vortex around them, covering Mark completely and humming across his skin. Shadows darkened around him, the lights being the only things visible. The boy remembered how the shadows had ripped an entire army of monsters to pieces with a single swipe, and shuttered. The echo of the screaming Hunter ringed in his ears, but were quickly replaced and erased from his mind by the lights.

_ Deal,  _ they seemed to whisper around him.  _ Deal deal deal deal deal  _ **_deal._ **

Just as sudden as it started, it stopped. The lights shrank back, shadows fading into nothing. Mark let out a breath of air he didn’t realize he was holding in, hand still caught in a vice grip. He slowly looked around him, seeing that the world was sharper, more defined. His dreams always felt real, but now the wind moved his hair, the dirt was packed underneath his feet, and the grass tickled his legs. He didn’t notice it before, but the sounds were muffled and murky, now they were crisp and clear.

And Dark.

The man in front of him was just as improved as the world around. His form solidified, no longer a static image, but a perfect picture. The lights became rich with color, the shadows filling in around him, air shifting so that the earth seemed to gravitate towards him.

Dark grinned, pearly white teeth shining. He let go of Mark’s hand, but his void like eyes never left him. The boy was glued in place, staring at the being with a mixture of fear and curiosity. An odd sensation was left on his hand from where Dark held it.

**“Thank you, Mark,”** Dark said, voice no longer layered, but one deep, vibrating sound. Mark thought he could just listen to him talk forever and ever and he’s never grow tired of hearing it.

**“Now, would you like for me to show you what you can do here?”** he asked, tilting his head in question.

Mark nodded enthusiastically, following Dark as he walked to the forest, where the dragon the boy saw earlier laid. The darker being showed him how to talk to the dragon, smiling as the boy made friends with it. The dragon butted its head lovingly at Mark’s chest causing the young boy to giggle and pet its scales.

Dark watched Mark with a close eye, guiding him around this world whenever he needed help. Each time he saw the boy interact with the magical beings that lived here, each time he befriended them and smiled, a surge of possessiveness would consume Dark’s being, and he would shove the feeling down as far as it would go. He wanted to hide the boy away, keep him for himself. He would destroy any monster that dared hurt him, slaughter every mortal that tried to keep him away. Mark was  _ his  _ human, and his human alone, and not even The Host or Wilford Warfstache could change that.

_ You’re my sweet dream,  _ Dark thought as Mark became covered in pixie dust, that possessive feeling growing with each passing moment.

_ And I’m your beautiful nightmare. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	4. Idol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya everyone! I might be able to make another chapter before I leave, but I make no promises! Also, I keep forgetting to mention that my friend Nyla helped me come up with ideas for this story. Big thanks to her for putting up with my BS! She is also on Wattpad, under Magical_Nyla_Writes if you want to check out any of her stuff. I was actually thinking about this story being published on her account for the Wattpad community since I don't have one. Anyways, here's your fourth chapter!~

After that, Mark saw Dark every night. He loved spending time with the being, loved the stories he would tell, loved the creatures he was able to conjure with the flick of a wrist, loved his lights and how they seemed like their own person, loved telling Dark about his day, loved how the nightmares vanished without a trace. If there was a Heaven, the boy thought it would be just like this.

“We’re starting to learn about all the countries in Europe!” Mark exclaimed to Dark. They were both sitting in a grassy field, a common place in his dreams now. No more creepy forests, no more empty voids devoid of all life. Just sun, warmth, and Dark.

“Like how they went through a whole Renaissance thing, and the dude with the 95 Theses and all sorts of cool stuff,” the boy beamed, suddenly remembering the most important part. “And I found out I’m part German! How awesome is that!”

Dark chuckled, his deep voice sending a pleasant warmth through Mark’s body.  **“That sounds great, little one. What about England? I’m quite fond of the Brits, if I do say so myself.”**

Mark giggled, bopping the being on the nose. “That’s ‘cause you act so much like one, being so proper and stuff,” he turned up his nose, bringing up his hand as if he was drinking from an imaginary cup. “Hullo, I’m Dark and I like meeting royalty, eating crumpets, and taking over the world! Bow before me, peasants!”  he mocked, voice broke on the last words, going into another giggle fit.

Dark snorted. **“Damn right I do,”** he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Mark gasped, covering his mouth to hide his smile. “Daarrk! You cursed!” he tacked the being around the waist, both of them falling backwards. Dark landed with a,  **“oof,”** laughing with the boy, who was now giggling uncontrollably. It was such a lovely laugh, innocent and joyous.

Dark huffed and sat up, placing the boy on his lap, who immediately curled around him and purred much like a cat would. The two stayed like that for a while, Dark gently humming and rocking them both back and forth, making Mark close his eyes in content. The smell of grass and sweet flowers relaxed him further, the warmth of the sun and the lazy humming lights having a drowsy effect on him.

It was much too soon when it all stopped.

The dark being shook Mark softly, telling him that it was time to go back. The boy let out a whine, tightening his grip on Dark. He always hated it when he had to leave, even though he knew his friends and family would be there when he woke up. There was something about these dreams that begged him to never wake up, but the boy knew that could not happen. This world was different; he was not able to eat or drink anything, couldn’t use the bathroom (that had been an embarrassing experiment) and whatever happened to his real body would affect what happened to him in his dreams.

**“Come on now, little one,”** mused Dark, shaking him again.  **“You have school today, do you not?”**

“Yes,” Mark said, voice muffled by Dark’s suit. “But I don’t wanna  _ go.” _

**“Do you not want to learn more about all those little countries in Europe? Believe me, there are many.”**

Mark grumbled, but said yes again. With much unwanting, the boy pinched himself as hard as he could on the arm, a way he was able to wake himself up. Within a few moments, the world around him became slightly fuzzy and whitewashed, and he could faintly hear the sound of an alarm in the distance. “Bye Dark,” Mark exclaimed, waving.

**“Goodbye, little one,”** the being gave his own little wave. It was the last thing Mark saw before he was thrusted into the world of the living.

 

  
“Alright everyone! I have a new assignment for you today,” Mrs. Morgan said to the entire class of 2nd graders. The talking around the room gradually quieted down, everyone including Mark turning to put his attention on their teacher. Mrs. Morgan was holding up a piece of paper with a person drawn in colored pencils and crayons on it. It wasn’t the best drawing in the world, but the word  _ Mom  _ was clear to see at the top in bright red letters. Mark tilted his head in question, wondering what the teacher would ask them to do.

“Before we start, do any of you now what an  _ idol  _ is?” she asked, looking around the room with a raised eyebrow. Mark did too, not knowing what the word meant himself. Wasn’t there a T.V show called something like that?

Across the room, a girl with blond hair and blue eyes was waving her hand rapidly to try and get Mrs. Morgan’s attention.  _ Of course Holly would know,  _ Mark thought to himself as the teacher called on the girl.

“A idol is someone you look up to!” Holly stated matter of factly, a proud look on her face. Mrs. Morgan nodded, turning back to address the rest of the class.

“That’s right! An idol is someone you admire, or look up to,” she held up the picture again. “The assignment is that you are going to draw someone you consider an idol in your life, someone who helps you or you like being with a lot, and then write why on the back of your paper I will give you. I chose my mom, but you can choose anyone you like!”

Another boy, Mark’s best friend Tyler, raised his hand. “Can we do our dog?” he asked.

“As long as you can give me a why, you can do anyone, pets or people, that you’d like!” said Mrs. Morgan. At that, she began passing pieces of while construction paper around the room, the class bursting into chatter, everyone discussing who they were going to draw as their idol. As a paper landed in front of Mark, the boy knew exactly who he was going to draw.

Dark.

While everyone will still trying to decide (with the exception of a few, of course) Mark went to work. He got out out his crayons (more specifically the  black and grey ones) and began his project. He first started with the entire body, doing his best to shape Dark’s appearance. He gave the figure a blocky body that would become his suit, legs, shoes, hands, and the beginning of a face. Once the boy was satisfied with that, he started coloring in and adding details. He blackened the suit and tie, leaving bits of white for the shirt underneath. His eyes were also black, and though Mark couldn’t capture the true darkness of the beings eyes, he tried his best. After that, he put in his hair, making sure to leave it covering one eye like Dark’s always was. Mark picked up his grey crayon, filling in Dark’s skin to complete his picture, and leaned back to appreciate his work. The boy wasn't the best drawer himself, but he thought it looked pretty good for him.

The longer he stared at it, the more he was confident that something was off, missing. It took him a good minute before he realized the problem. The lights! How could he forget the humming lights that were always moving around the being? Mark grumbled, searching for his red and blue crayons, finding them at the bottom of his bag. He happily brought them out, putting the colors around Dark in the fashion they usually were: the red further away from his body and more unshaped, and the blue closer in and more in tune with the beings figure.  _ Now  _ the boy was certain the picture was finished, writing in his black crayon  _ Dark  _ like Mrs. Morgan had done with her mom.

Remembering that he also had to write  _ why  _ Dark was his idol, Mark got his pencil and turned his paper over. He didn’t hesitate to write down everything; how Dark had made all of his nightmares disappear, how nice he was, showing the boy all of the amazing things that could be created in his dreams, how he always listened to what he had to say and how his lights and voice soothed him.

He didn’t hear Mrs. Morgan until she tapped him on the shoulder. The boy looked up in surprise, almost done with his writing. The whole page was taken up by his writings, the words getting smaller and closer together in order to fit more.

“Who did you chose?” Mrs. Morgan questioned him with a smile. Mark lit up, flipping over the paper to show his teacher the drawing. He didn’t notice the look of confusion from her, too excited to tell the teacher about his idol.  

“This is Dark!” the boy exclaimed, raising the picture to show. “He makes all of my nightmares go away!”

The teacher looked even more confused at this, mumbling something Mark couldn’t understand under her breath. Was something wrong? Dark did count as an idol, right? Was there a reason he wouldn’t? Mark couldn’t think of one.

“Where do you see this…  _ Dark?”  _ carefully asked the teacher. Mark blinked slowly, suddenly uncomfortable by the expression on Mrs. Morgan’s face.

“I… I see him when I go to sleep. I say his name and he finds me before the monsters do…” the boy trailed off, shrinking slightly. He didn’t like the look on his teachers face at all now. She seemed stunned, concerned and disgusted all at the same time. Why would she feel that way about Dark, whom she had never even met?

With no warning, Mrs. Morgan snatched Mark’s paper away from him. The boy let out a noise of protest, trying to take the paper back. Why was his teacher acting like this? All he did was draw his idol, like he was supposed to!

Mrs. Morgan shushed him, reading the paper with quick eyes. The boy could feel others eyes on him by now, most of the class turning to watch the what the commotion was all about. Mark was too frustrated with Mrs. Morgan to be embarrassed, pouting and crossing his arms, watching her face. With each moment it seemed the teacher got paler and paler until she was nothing but a white sheet. The paper trembled in her hands, lips set in a firm line. What was wrong with his teacher didn’t click with Mark; why would she react like this to a simple drawing?

“Mark,” whispered Mrs. Morgan, brown eyes intensely staring at him. “Is everything alright at home?”

The boy could feel his confusion grow even more. What was that even supposed to mean? Of course everything was fine at home, and even if they weren’t, the picture of Dark didn’t change anything. He was his own separate being, living in his dreams despite him feeling so real

“Why wouldn’t it be?” he demanded. “And what does Dark have to do with that?” The boy glared the best he could at his teacher, stomping is foot.

Mrs. Morgan’s eyes darted around her, quickly glancing at the other students in the class. Seeing that most of their attention had been taken elsewhere by now, the teacher gripped Mark’s wrist, leading him over to her phone. The boy resisted, complaining that he just wanted his picture of Dark back, but she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. She picked up the phone, dialing a number and putting it to her ear, all while Mark tried to escape her grip, failing to do so.

“Yeah… I need Mr. Reves… yes I do believe this is important… yes I’ll bring him down with me, but I need someone to watch the class… of course, Ms. Neil will be perfectly fine, thank you… I’ll see him there,” and with that, she hung up. Mark didn’t know what any of it meant. The only thing he understood was that he and Mrs. Morgan would be going to Mr. Reves, the school’s guidance counselor, but he didn’t know why. He hated not knowing things like this.

His teacher kept him in her grip, waiting until Ms. Neil came into the room a few minutes later. The two women exchanged a quick and quiet conversation, Mrs. Morgan showing the other Mark’s picture. A surge of anger went through the boy as he watched the interaction, a look much like his teacher had gave on Ms. Neil’s face. He dug his nails into his free hand, glaring at them both. Couldn’t they just leave him alone about it? It was just a picture, for crying out loud!

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on them for however long you want,” Ms. Neil was saying, patting the other teacher on the back. She glanced at Mark briefly, something like pity and concern crossing her features. The boy just glared harder, tired of that look.

“Thank you so much,” replied Mrs. Morgan, relief in her voice. With that, she started taking Mark out of the room, the boy not having it in himself to argue anymore. He willingly followed his teacher down the many hallways in the school, passing the art, music, and P.E classrooms that were being used by the older students. Mark hoped that his brother wouldn’t be in any of the rooms, not wanting him to see his brother like this. Knowing him, he would probably think Mark was in trouble for whatever reason, though the boy wasn’t sure if he was in trouble or not at this point.

After awhile, Mark didn’t know where they were anymore. It occurred to him that he’s actually never been to the guidance counselor's room, Mr. Reves had only ever gone to  _ their  _ room, and not the other way around.

Nervousness started picking up in the boy, heart rate increasing slightly. This hallway, simply labeled  _ Guidance Counselor’s Hall  _ seemed dark and ominous to him. The dark shadows reminded him of his nightmares, before Dark ever came around. He gripped his teachers hand tightly, pressing himself closer to her as his eyes darted around the hallway. The only light came from weak overhead lights, just bright enough to illuminate about a foot before the dark took over again. You couldn’t see anything in the corners, just the emptiness of shadows, where monsters were sure to lurk.

The boy whimpered softly, not to be noticed by his teacher. He wanted Dark, wanted for him to make all of the monsters go away and to hold him while he hummed with the lights. He wanted to get as far away from this place as possible, wanted to not see Mr. Reves.

However, despite his strong wanting, none of them would ever come true.

Mrs. Morgan stopped in front of a door with the name  _ Mr. Reves  _ written in giant blue bubble letters, knocking firmly on the door. It was the only sound in the erri hallway, making Mark’s head whip around to make sure no monsters would pounce on them, holding his breath and tense.

The clicking and gentle creaking of the door drew the boy’s attention, seeing more soft light flood the dark hallway. Even though the light hid the shadows, Mark felt no less scared or unsafe, cowering back from the room. He refused to look on the other side, knowing that Mr. Reves was there, but Mrs. Morgan practically dragged him into the room, grip on his wrist becoming harsh and unforgiving, causing Mark to let out another small whimper.

Once they were fully in the room, who Mark could only assume was Mr. Reves shut the door behind them, the sound of the lock sending warning signs to the boys brain. This was just like the Red Lady from his nightmares would do; make him feel safe and comforted before trapping him somewhere to hurt him, mostly through taunts and bleeding words. Mark hasn’t seen the Red Lady in such a long time, he nearly forgot about her, but this room, this whole situation, felt just like something she do. Who's to say this wasn’t a nightmare right now? That she wasn’t disguised as Mrs. Morgan or Mr. Reves, trying to gain his trust? It wouldn’t have been the first time she’s done something like this.

As the two adults talked, Mark called out in a voice so small that only he could hear it,  _ “help!” _

He waited, holding his breath, hoping for Dark to appear and make the monsters go away, hoping for the familiar voice to sooth his fears and calm him.

But no such thing ever came.

Mark remained alone and at the mercy of the two adults in front of him, not understanding what they wanted or why they wanted it.

The boy stared unblinking at the ground, not hearing or processing what the two were saying. Something about him, probably, but he couldn’t think about that. All he could think about was Dark, wanting to take back his picture, wanting to see him outside of his dreams if this really wasn’t one.

After a time unknown to Mark, Mrs. Morgan let go of his hand and walked out, the slamming door echoing in the boys ears. Shyly glancing up, he saw Mr. Reves looking kindly down at him.

He was trapped with a real life monster, no way to get out.

No way to protect himself from the darkness of the shadows.

No way for Dark to free him from this prison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	5. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will DEFINITELY be the last chapter I post for a while. My spring break is a starting! Here's your 5th chapter~

“So, Mark, how are you feeling today?”

The boy didn’t reply to the question Mr. Reves asked him, staring emotionlessly at the clock above the door, listening to the sharp ticking noise it gave off every second.  _ Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. _

A sigh. “Did you have pleasant sleep last night?”

Nothing.  _ Tick. Tick Tick. Tick. _

“How are your mom and dad?”

_ How else would they be? Didn’t you meet them just a few weeks ago?  _ Mark thought to himself, but never voiced. Mr. Reves, guidance counselor or not, had no business on what went on at his house, let alone in his dreams. Speaking of which…

“What about this Dark person? Who are they? Did they hurt you at all?” They were simple questions, but they made Mark’s blood boil. Dark would never hurt him! What on earth made this man think  _ that? _

“No,” Mark practically growled, continuing to keep his eyes on the clock.  _ Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. _

“No what? No they aren’t hurting you, or no things are not well with mom and dad?” Mark quickly glanced at Mr. Reves from his place on the couch, seeing the comforting expression he was trying to present on his face. It did nothing to calm the boys nerves.

Back to the clock.  _ Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. _

“Dark would never hurt me,” Mark stated firmly. “He only hurts the monsters.”

The boy could hear the other shift in his chair. “And who are the monsters? Are they your mom and dad?”

That made Mark whip his head, eyes wide in anger he didn’t know he possessed. “NO!” he yelled, standing up and storming over to the counselor. “Give me back my picture and let me go, or he’ll hurt you too! That’s what he always does to the monsters that hurt me!”

Mr. Reves raised his hands in defense, grabbing the picture of Dark which was on his desk with one. “I’m not here to hurt you, Mark. I just want to understand who Dark is, that’s all.”

The boy scowled, snatching the picture from the other and hugging it to his chest, scuffling back to the couch and sitting down again. He did his best to smooth out the crinkled picture from where the two adults had gripped it, sad to see Dark’s perfect suit and lights so imperfect.

“I told you, Dark makes the monsters go away when I go to sleep. I haven’t had a nightmare in weeks because of him.”

Mr. Reves raised an eyebrow at this. “Is it normal for you to have nightmares every night?” he questioned curiously. Mark didn’t like that much.

“Not anymore, thanks to Dark,” the boy replied, still doing his best to put the picture in the condition it was before. It wasn’t working much.

“What else does Dark do?” wondered the counselor, almost to himself. When the boy looked back up at him, his eyes were unfocused and dream like, before they refocused on Mark’s face again. The boy broke the eye contact, fiddling with his fingers. A sudden desire to tell Mr. Reves about Dark popped up, combated by the warning signs to stay away. Even if he was wake, Mark still had the feeling that this was still the Red Lady’s doing. He could very clearly recall her glowing, fiery form, hear her burning words, feel the heat rolling off her in waves. It made him shiver just by thinking about it.

But was Mr. Reves really his enemy? He thought Dark was a monster at first, but it turned out he wasn’t.

“He… he makes these fairies and magical things sometimes… like a dragon and stuff…” Mark trailed off, swallowing. He darted his eyes up, seeing Mr. Reves wave him on. Those warning signs still didn’t go away.

“And he likes it when I talk about my day with him- he’s a really good listener,” now the boy found he couldn’t stop now. “He’ll tell me stories too, stories about magical things and heroes, and his lights hum a lot, and sometimes he’ll sing along with them, he has this song he’ll sing to me-”

“A song he’ll sing to you with his lights?” interrupted Mr. Reves from the boys rambling. Mark blinked rapidly at the man, not understanding what he was asking at first.

“Yeah… he has lights,” Mark showed him the picture, pointing at the colors around the dark being. “They hum all the time, and they move too.”

“What song does he sing to you?” pressed the counselor, leaning his elbows on his knees.

Mark unconsciously moved back in the couch, hands wringing together. “It doesn’t have a name, I think.”

“How does it go, then?”

The boy hesitated, feeling that a wall of privacy had been breached. Not even his mom knew about the song, and to Mark it was a sanctuary whenever he felt overwhelmed or scared, a way for Dark to calm him. Now someone he wasn’t even sure he trusted  wanted to know everything about it.  _ Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick  _ ringed in his ears, making it hard to concentrate. He was about to open his mouth when he heard it.

_ Don’t,  _ begged a voice in his mind.  _ Whatever you do, you’ve said enough. Get.  _ **_OUT._ **

“No,” said Mark firmly, glaring at Mr. Reves, a look of surprise crossing his features at the defiance. “I want out.”

Mr. Reves sighed, rubbing the bridge if his nose as if he had a headache, leaning back in his chair. “Look, Mark,” he started, voice slightly annoyed. “I’m just trying to understand. It’s not normal for boys your age to be drawing... “ he gestured to the picture of Dark. The young boy brought it closer to his body protectively, not liking where this was going. “It’s also not normal for them to have imaginary friends that supposedly makes their nightmares go away.”

_ Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. _

“Im… imaginary?” whispered Mark, scarcely believing his own two ears.

“Yes,” continued the counselor, as if he didn’t see the look of shock on the boys face. “That’s why Mrs. Morgan thought it would be a good idea for you to come to me. Most children who ‘experience’ things like this usually have a reason to, maybe their mommy or daddy is hurting them and they make up a friend to help them out, or perhaps their family as a whole is going through a tough time,” Mr. Reves stopped, now realizing the look on Mark’s face wasn’t a pleasant one. His ears were tinged pink, eyes bright with fury, something that was not seen often, if at all, with the boy.

“HE’S NOT IMAGINARY!” Mark screamed. “NOTHING IS HAPPENING WITH MY FAMILY! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!?” he demanded, standing up again, muscles shaking with tension and anger. He couldn’t recall a time where he’s ever been this mad about something, and the fury was already trying to fade out. But something was making him hold on to it, making him feel this way.

Mr. Reves jumped up, trying to calm him. “It’s alright, Mark,” he told him in an attempt to be soothing. “You can tell me whatever is going on and I won’t judge-”

“NOTHING IS GOING ON! LEAVE ME ALONE!” with unknown strength, the boy shoved the counselor, making him fall back to his chair with a surprised gasp. Adrenaline kicking in, Mark ran for the door, the  _ tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.  _ of the clock consuming his  mind. Instinct told him to get out as fast as possible, told him that this could still be the work of the Red Lady. She was still trying to gain his trust, but he wouldn’t fall for it. He’d fallen for it too many times before, and he would make sure it didn’t happen again.

“Wait, Mark!” called out Mr. Reves, but the boy barely heard him. He reached out to the door, gripping the burning cold knob with shaking fingers, picture still in the other hand. However, when Mark turned the knob, nothing happened. He desperately tried again, panic setting in quickly.

_ No no no!  _ He thought as the realization set in that he was trapped, and that the Red Lady already had him.  _ Where’s Dark, where are you, help! _

The sound of a groan and a creaking floor came from behind the boy, and he nearly gave himself whiplash in his panic, Mr. Reves slowly standing up again. Mark whimpered, turning the knob with all of his might, but it wouldn’t budge.

_ You have to calm down,  _ whispered that voice in the back of his mind, but it was immediately overpowered with  _ get out get out get  _ **_OUT!_ ** The two feelings of panic and calm kept trying to overtake him, kept trying to control him.

"Stop,” the boy begged, pulling at his hair. The drawing of Dark floated to the floor, out of his grasp, but he didn’t notice. “Just make it stop!”

In another act of desperation, Mark banged on the door. “Let me out!” he yelled, a spike of pain going through his wrist with each hit. “Let me out!” he yelled louder, hitting the door harder. More noise came from behind him, a hand being placed on his shoulder. The boy jumped, immediately slapping the hand off his shoulder and elbowing the mass behind him, hitting something giving and soft. A pained noise came from Mr. Reves, but Mark didn’t hear it.

“Let me out! Let me out, let me out!” he cried again, tears trailing down his face.

“Mark- please- you have to calm down,” came the gasping voice of the counselor. “I can help you-”

“Stop saying that, stop saying that!” the boy sobbed, weakly hitting the door. “Stop trying to make me trust you, Red Lady! I know it’s you so stop!”

Mr. Reves whispered under his breath,  _ “Red Lady?”  _ the exact moment another voice entered their ears; a women calling out,  _ , “Mark?” _

Tears of relief came to the boys eyes, recognizing his mother’s voice anywhere. It sounded and felt like Heaven compared to this Hell he was trapped in.

“Mama! Mama, I’m here,” his voice cracked as the door swiftly swung open, revealing his mom and all of her godly glory. The boy ran to her, burying his head into her skirt, crying hot tears into it, not noticing the erri hallway with her here. She didn’t care about the tears one bit, only stroked his hair, and sang sweet tunes under her breath as Mark’s heart rate gradually slowed. All anger and fight left him, being replaced with blanketing calm that settles into his mind.

His mom however, was a different story.

_ “What  _ did you  _ do  _ to my  _ son,”  _ she demanded furiously, eyes alight with fire. Mr. Reves stood up straighter, eyes wide and a sudden urge to run appearing.

“I-I-I-” he tried, only for the boy to interrupt him.  

“He thought you and dad were hurting me. I kept telling him you weren’t but he wouldn’t listen! He wouldn’t listen,” Mark’s voice quieted, hugging his mom tighter and deeply inhaling her sweet perfume she always wore.

“How  _ dare you!  _ I would never hurt my son if my life depended on it!” his mom snapped, bringing him away from Mr. Reves.

“B-but ma’am,” the counselor began, flipping his hands to show the palms. “You don’t understand, we were-”

“No,  _ you  _ don’t understand. You don’t understand that sometimes,  _ there’s nothing wrong and you need to just let it go.  _ I don’t care what reason you had, you should have  _ contacted  _ me before you started interrogating and demanding answers from my son that you don’t need to know and  _ that he doesn’t have _ ,” she let out a huff of air, trying to not let her anger get the best of her. Right now, her son was the priority, nothing else.

“Now, if you  _ excuse us,  _ we’ll be leaving, and I’ll be having a few kind words with the principle,” she stated, turning with her son, who’s tears had started to dry out. At the same time Mrs. Morgan busted into the hallway, out of breath and panting.

“What-” the teacher gasped, eyes darting between the three people in the hallway. Mark’s mom just glared at Mrs. Morgan, walking past her without a word. The teacher and the counselor watch as the two walked out of the school, and odd sense of dread pumping through their veins.

From the floor in Mr. Reves office, the picture of Dark scowled with hate, a silent promise full of revenge and death hanging the air.  

_ Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. _

The countdown has begun. I don’t think you’ll like it when it  _ stops. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	6. Revenge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm officially back from my vacation, so you can expect for me to be posting regularly again! Here's your 6th chapter~

That night, Mark had a hard time falling asleep. He kept replaying the events at the guidance counselor's office over and over again in his head, each time seeing the Red Lady in the corner of his eye, smiling wickedly and fire burning around her. He wasn’t sure if she was even there at this point, it might have just been his imagination, but his body didn’t care. The boy could feel her heat, smell the smoke pouring from her form, hear her sharp and mocking laugh in his room, but he couldn’t see her, each moment her presence growing stronger and stronger until there was no doubt that she was in this very room with him. 

Mark whimpered as she laughed again, wrapping the blankets tightly around him, hoping to block the Red Lady out. The boy hadn’t seen her in such a long time that he nearly forgot who she was in the first place, but now that she was back, everything came back in full force. He remembered how she trapped him in a room full of hot, suffocating fire, unable to move or do anything as she spit harsh words at him, making fun of his family, telling him how weak and gullible he was, everything. He forgot how much he hated her.

_ "Aww, is poor Marky terrified? Does he want it to stop?”  _ asked the Red Lady in a baby like voice. Mark started to sweat from her heat, but he refused to uncover himself with the blankets. Breathing steadily became more difficult as more smoke filled the air, and the boy began to cry in frustration. Why did she come back  _ now?  _ What was so special about this moment that she decided to make his life Hell again?

Mark whimpered again, wanting so badly to run to his mom and dad’s room, where he knew the Red Lady wouldn’t follow him, but he couldn’t move. He was too paralyzed with fear to move, the smoke sapping whatever energy he had left. He was trapped in his own room, trapped in his own mind, and he wasn’t even asleep.

Were his nightmares coming to life? Were they taking over the people around him? Were they going to kill him? They always tried to in the nightmares, so what could stop them here?

The heat went up again, more sweating running down Mark’s arms and legs. The tears came faster now, the Red Lady giving another terrible laugh. Where was Dark? Shouldn’t he be able to protect him outside of his dreams? Shouldn’t he be able to comfort him from his fears? All he wanted was the dark being, for him to hold the boy and tell him everything was going to be alright, to make all the monsters go away.

“Dark,” he whispered, throat filling with smoke. The laughing from the Red Lady sharply cut off at that, the heat in the room tensing.

_ “What did you say?”  _ she demanded, fear and dread in her voice.

“Dark,” Mark said again, pleading with every ounce of his being. “Please don’t be imaginary, you’re not,  _ please.”  _ Mark cried harder when nothing happened, that sense of death being close appearing when the smoke became too thick to breath in.

“Please,” the boy tried one last time, losing the last of his air.  _ “Help.” _

In an instant, everything changed. The heat in the air was sharply cut off, a wave of cool air covering Mark completely and entering his lungs, which greedily sucked in. A scream came from the Red Lady, making the boy freeze in fear. He tried to move from under the covers to see what was going on, but the cool seemed to hold him down, preventing him from moving.

_ “No, Dark,”  _ the Red Lady gasped, something shattering in the background.  _ “I swear it was an accident-” _

An animalistic roar echoed through the small room, shaking the entire foundation of the house, yet no one asleep within it awoke, not hearing the commotion.

Mark did. He heard every second of it, the sound of flesh being torn to shreds, the crunching and shattering of bones, and the most disturbing to the boy, the sizzling of a fire being extinguished. Mark’s body convulsed with each passing moment, bile threatening to rise with his tears, the cool still pinning him firmly.

After one terrible minute, it all stopped. No sounds came from anywhere, not even a breath from the boy. He was too terrified to make sound, holding his breath as the muffled clicking of shoes made their way to the side of his bed. Gently the cool released him, sliding down his arms and slithering away like snakes. They left what felt like a trail behind them, like the imprint of their presence was still there. Mark found that he didn’t mind much, grateful to feel cold again after the horrible heat he was in for so long.

**“Mark? Are alright, little one?”**

The boy slowly uncovered himself, the darkness of the room making it impossible to see anything, but standing next to his bed, was him.

Dark.

Seeing the dark being after what felt like so long, after the Red Lady appearing again, made Mark burst into tears, too much emotion built up in his chest and mind. Dark instantly got in the bed with him and wrapped his arms around the boy protectively, his lights humming and covering them in a cocoon as he was placed on the beings lap. Mark fisted Dark’s suit, burying his head there as he cried.

**“Shh, little one,”** Dark said soothingly, rocking him back and forth.  **“You’re safe now. She can’t harm you anymore.”**

Mark didn’t reply, just hugged the other tighter and closer. It felt like a cork had been released from his head, releasing everything that had happened over the past 12 hours. It felt so  _ nice  _ to be held by Dark outside of his dreams, to know that he was real and alive.

“You’re real,” Mark found himself saying over and over again. “You’re not imaginary, you’re real you’re real you’re  _ real.” _

**“Of course, little one. Whatever gave you the impression that I wasn’t?”** Dark asked lightly, but there was a certain edge to his tone that the boy didn’t catch.

With a shaky voice and tear filled eyes, Mark told Dark everything that had happened; the assignment to draw their idol in class, Mrs. Morgan sending him the the guidance counselor for drawing him, Mr. Reves accusing him mom and dad of hurting him, and the counselor telling the boy that there was no way Dark was real, that he was just imaginary. By the end, the dark being was gripping him tight, but Mark didn’t mind. He loved the feeling of being comforted like this, to be utterly surrounded by the promise and guarantee of safety.

**“Don’t worry, there is no need to fear him now,”** Dark said, beginning to hum along with the lights.  **“Right now, what you need is sleep.”**

Mark hummed in agreement, completely relaxing against the other as he began singing, deep and slow.

**_“When your tucked away in bed_ **

**_Eyes shut tight in the darkness_ **

**_When the visions inside your head_ **

**_Become haunting and lifeless_ **

**_Just call my name_ **

**_And I’ll appear by your side_ **

**_I’ll give you sweet dreams_ **

**_That they always try to hide_ **

**_I’m your beautiful nightmare_ **

**_Trapped within your soul_ **

**_The lullaby of the Dark_ **

**_Shall forever be there, always know.”_ **

Dark trailed off, watching Mark as he submitted to the call of slumber. He was so much more peaceful like this, face relaxed and breathing deep and steady. Dark smiled down at him, wishing that he could stay here all night, but he couldn’t.

He had a job to to.

Making sure not to disturb the boy, the dark being softly placed him under the covers with the help of his aura, tucking the blankets around him so that he’d stay warm and comfortable.

Dark gave one last caress through his hair and down his face, saying a silent chant so that his little one would have nothing but empty, nightmare less dreams. He continued to stare at Mark for another minute to make sure that the enchantment was doing its work before feeling satisfied.

**“After tonight, you’ll never have to worry about either of those monsters ever again,”** Dark whispered, feeling his anger from earlier resurface. For the moment he pushed it down, not wanting to lose his temper right in front of Mark.

The being walked around the bed, stepping over the pile of ashes that used to be the Red Lady. With the flick of a wrist and a simple **, “gone,”** it disappeared from existence, to wherever monsters went when they were killed. Dark hoped to never know.

_ Good riddance,  _ he thought, walking through the walls and into the outside. He hated the Red Lady much more than Mark ever could, and hearing her screams and she pleaded for her life was simply  _ delicious.  _ She deserved much more than what she got, but Dark could only do so much with his new, real form.

Dark flexed his grey fingers, testing their strength and cracking his neck in attempts to get used to this weaker form. The Host wasn’t wrong after all; he did feel weaker than when he was in Mark’s head. He supposed beings like him weren’t supposed to be in the real world, but it was still a slight shock. He briefly wondered why Wilford enjoyed it so much, but immediately shoved that out of mind. He didn’t need to think about Warfstache right now, and if it was up to Dark, not ever. Not after what he did to Dark, to The Host, to Mark, to  _ all  _ of them.

Dark sighed heavily, forcing his hands to relax. He needed to put what happened in the past behind him and move on, despite his extreme anger towards it. Warfstache will be dealt with later, and he should be grateful he hasn’t run into the manic yet. Now, all that mattered was the task before him.

The dark being allowed himself to smile as his aura consumed his form, taking him to his destination.

It seemed the timer had run out.  

 

 

Ryan Reves sighed, tiredness making it hard to keep his eyes open. It was really late, probably around 11 o’clock, and he was just now getting home. The man opened the door with his keys, stepping into the piercing darkness of the main hallway. He went to turn on the light, only to find that it wouldn’t do anything.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he repeatedly flicked the lightswitch over and over again, only to be met with nothing in return. It seemed that his light bulbs had burnt out, meaning there would be nothing lighting his way until he got new ones.

Grumbling, Ryan took small steps, feeling the wall next to him for guidance. He couldn’t help but chuckle a bit at that irony: him, a guidance counselor, using another object for guidance. He guessed you had to appreciate the little things in life.

The sound of shuffling made him stop, listening out for the noise again and hearing nothing. Ryan shrugged to himself, thinking that he was just tired and hallucinating weird sounds that didn’t exist. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

The next time it happened, the man stopped for longer, straining his ears as much as he could. Had mice somehow gotten into his home? If he had an infestation on his hands, he’d be pissed.

“It better not be a bunch of damn mice,” he snarled to himself, shuffling the rest of the way to his kitchen.

**“I assure you, it’s not.”**

Ryan jumped, head whipping around in the unseeing darkness. “W-who’s there?!” he demanded, already fishing for his phone to call the cops. “Show yourself!”

The sharp blast to his chest knocked the air out of him, sending him flying back against what he could only assume to be his couch. His phone, which he had just gotten out, was now suddenly gone, disappearing from his grip. Ryan gasped, hand going to his chest, only to be met with a harsh pain in his ribs.

The damn bastard broke his ribs.

“Who the Hell are you?” Ryan yelled out, trying to stand up and look for his phone. Blaring ringing made him fall back again, ears protesting to the harsh noise. The man yelped, covering his ears the best he could to no avail. The ringing grew louder and louder until Ryan could feel his own blood dripping through his fingers, the warm wetness matting his hair and metallic smell strong in his nostrils.

**“Oh,”** whispered the voice of the intruder, clicking shoes making their way through the consuming ringing.  **“I think you know** **_exactly_ ** **who I am.”**

With no warning, the man was grabbed by the shoulders and yanked up, the ringing still filling the air. Unseen fingers crushed them, the sound of snapping bones and popped joints echoing through the house. Ryan screamed in pain, arms going limp and falling from his ears, releasing the full power of the ringing onto his unprotected ears.

What felt like ropes wrapped around torso, one hot like fire, the other colder than winter. Ryan cried out again, struggling in the hold of this  _ thing,  _ whatever was holding him, but it held him fast, squeezing tighter and tighter with each moment. Swift and powerful punches and kicks were thrown onto him, one cracking his nose, another shattering his knee, each making him scream his lungs out. Couldn’t the neighbors hear him? Why hadn’t they called the police yet? Who the Hell was this?

“I- don’t know- who you- are-” Ryan choked out with each small breath be managed to take. Then as suddenly as it had started, it stopped. The man gasped for air, the taste of blood filling his mouth and pain clouding his mind. He couldn’t think of anyone that would want to hurt him, let alone whatever  _ this  _ was.

So low that he didn't notice it at first, red and blue lights started glowing in the darkness. Ryan stopped breathing all together when he saw the being a few inches away from his face, dark eyes filled with anger and the promise of revenge. From what Ryan could see, his skin was grey like a corpse, black hair curling over one eye. His outfit seemed oddly formal, like he was wearing a suit-

All train of thought left the man, realization gripping his mind and heart. The simple picture drawn by a child popped into his head, recalling the red and blue lights, grey skin, suit, all of it pointed it to being-

The being,  _ Dark,  _ smirked evilly when he saw the humans realization, lights hissing in what was almost amusement.  

**“Yes, I do believe you know who I am, Mr. Reves,”** he hissed, eyes flashing with what Ryan could only describe as murder.

“B-b-but that’s impossible! You were made up by that kid, Mark!” Ryan exclaimed, closing his eyes. “This is all just some sick, fucked up dream, isn’t it?” he asked deliriously, pain becoming too much to bare at this point.

The ropes around his torso became even tighter at that, growling coming from the being. Ryan screamed again, voice hoarse and weak as the ropes burned and froze his skin all at the same time.

**“I am no dream!”** Dark roared, black, shadow like tendrils raised above his body, the tips of them coming to stop right in front of Ryan’s eyes, mouth, nose and chest. The man tried to struggle to get away, but by now his body was practically useless, too beaten up and tortured to do anything. The shadows pressed in closer, sucking the life out of Ryan the closer they got to his skin.    __

**“In fact,”** Dark whispered, ropes glowing brighter than before, lifting him up into the air so that his feet dangled. The shadows pulled back a hair bit, forcing the man’s attention on the dark being.  **“Many people call me a** **_nightmare.”_ **

In a millisecond, the shadows were on him, forcing themselves down Ryan’s throat, in his nose and eyes, sucking all the life out of him. One shadow impaled him in the chest, making fresh blood pour out.

Ryan tried to scream, he really did, but the pain was too much. He could only wither pathetically in the being’s hold, looking him dead in the eye as the last of his life left his body.

The last thing he saw were those dark, horrible eyes staring down at him.

They were the eyes of a nightmare, alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	7. Balance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I think this is my favoritest chapter so far, so I hope you enjoy! Here's your 7th chapter~

The Host was waiting for Dark when he got back.

The other being was sitting in a chair, facing away from the darker being and towards the still sleeping Mark. His arms and legs were crossed, head tilted as he listened to Dark enter the room once more, soft words flowing from his mouth, unable to be heard. They both didn’t say anything to each other for one, long minute. The only sound was the sound of the boy breathing, slow and deep.

**“I thought you couldn’t exit Mark’s being,”** Dark finally said, clasping his hands behind his back.

The Host, God it still felt wrong to call him that after all this time, replied simply with, “The Host can’t.” He stood up from the chair, it disappearing with a thought, keeping his unseeing gaze on the boy’s form. “He is not actually here. He supposed Dark doesn’t know what he can do, after all that time,” The Host turned his head towards him, voice slow and blanketing. Even before The Host he sounded like that, but the appearance was so… off. He didn’t have that blond streak before, didn’t have those bloodied bandages, didn’t use those narrations to get around. Looking at him now, you would have never guessed he was supposed to be Mark’s imagination.

**“Is there a reason you’re here then?”** Dark questioned, aura twitching slightly. He wasn’t afraid of much, but that gaze, seen by nothing, knowing everything without even trying, scared him.

“The Host always watches Mark while he sleeps, for protection from outside forces since he cannot help with the evil inside his head,” the bandaged being states, turning fully to Dark. “Might he ask why Dark was out chancing his own vendetta instead of protecting Mark? Especially with what just happened with the Red Lady?”

Anger threatened to take over Dark’s form, neck cracking slightly and fingers twitching.  **“You of all people have no room to judge, given what you’ve done in the past. And where were you when the Red Lady was here, anyway? Seeing that you claim to protect Mark from outside forces as he sleeps, where were you when he was being suffocated by her?”** he demanded, trying to keep his voice down so that the boy wouldn’t wake up.

“The Host cannot protect Mark from the monsters inside his head. That’s still Dark’s job, despite the fact you haven’t been here for so long,” The Host said quietly, and at that moment, Dark could see the frustration in the bandaged being’s stance. The tension in his shoulders and jaw, the defensive stance, ready to wake the boy up with a moments notice.

But Dark wasn’t done yet.  **“You’re supposed to be his imagination, the one that created these monsters in the first place, and yet you can’t control them?”** Dark jeered, snarling at the other.

A sad laugh came from The Host. “As much The Host wishes he could, he cannot control his creations. They run wild until they are stopped, but until then, they terrorize Mark. And believe The Host, he wishes he could do something about it, but that is not his job. Dark knows this,” his voice was barely able to be heard by the end, and it hit the darker being just how much he did care about the boy. The Host couldn’t do the same things he could do years ago, but he could help in other ways. It was almost admirable.

“Has Dark talked to Wilford at all?”

That name, that question, caused Dark’s aura to snap in hate, but The Host didn’t even flinch. He was probably already used to Dark’s bursts of anger, even if he’s only been back a short period of time.

**“You know I haven’t, and I hope never to see him** **_again._ ** **After what he did, I should find him and rip his chest open,”** Dark seethed.  **“Where** **_is_ ** **he anyway? Isn’t he supposed to be helping guard Mark as well? I bet he’s out somewhere, fucking random chicks on the streets and shooting up a daycare center. I bet he hasn’t changed at all, even after all he’s done.”**

The Host hummed, fingers tapping his coat covered arm. “Wilford Warfstache has always helped in his own way, even before everything happened. Dark had always been too blind to ever see it, too encased by his own hatred for the other.”

**“He’s Mark’s damn** **_personality_ ** **and you’re trying to tell me that running around and doing jack shit, going bad shit crazy and shooting anything that doesn’t do exactly what you want it to do is** **_helping Mark?_ ** **At this rate the boy will be in an insane asylum talking to himself about the nightmares that came to life,”** Dark pressed, more frustration filling him. He quickly glanced over at Mark, seeing him still fast asleep.

“Dark has no room to criticize, seeing as he just came back from murdering someone he didn’t agree with,” The Host shot back without a beat. The others own frustration was starting to show, as much as he didn’t want it to. It was ironic, in a way. The Host and Dark were supposed to be the most composed beings in this world, yet such seemingly simple things set them off.

Dark straightened his suit jacket, glaring at The Host.  **“I know you wanted to rip him to pieces just as much as I did. In fact, I’m pretty sure the only reason you didn’t with me is because you** **_can’t._ ** **And plus, it’s just one person. Wilford has killed dozens of people and I don’t see you lecturing him,”** Dark said with calm anger.

The Host sighed, running his fingers over his slicked back hair. “The Host realizes Wilford Warfstache had killed many, but he also realizes that these people could never be traced back to Mark.  _ Dark  _ however, had potentially put Mark in danger because of their direct connection. The police could blame his mother for the murder, seeing how angry she was with Mr. Reves earlier,” The Host whispered, barely controlled anger dripping from his voice. “The Host suggests Dark learn to keep his temper around mortals, seeing as they all could bring danger to Mark, even if they’ve already hurt him.”

Dark scoffed, the idea of humans ever being able to hurt Mark seeming impossible.  **“That won’t happen. I’ll kill them before they even think about it,”** Dark declared, crossing his arms in mimic of The Host.

The Host shook his head again, mumbling something incoherently under his breath. “Dark does understand that he, The Host and Wilford are not normal when it comes to what they are, correct? We should not be able to do the things we do, and yet here we are,” he spread his arms, gesturing to the world around them. “We should not be able to feel, touch, or think in the way we do. Does Dark have any idea why that is?” The Host took a step closer to the darker being, making the blood falling from his eyes become more pronounced and bringing a metallic smell to Dark’s nostrils.

**“Well, I imagine it would have to do something with Mark and the way he thinks and feels,”** he said nonchalantly, trying to give off the appearance that didn’t care either way. But he was curious about this, even when the three of them first came into being they were different, more reactionary, more human than most. You never saw beings like them around other people, no one protecting them from dangers caused from the outside or in one's head.  **“We can’t possibly be the only ones like this.”**

“The Host would like to think that yes, there are others like them out there, but he does not know. He does know why they are like this, or what they are like for other people. All he can do is try and keep this one safe,” he nodded over to Mark. “Why do you think The Host did what he did all those years ago? It was to keep that boy breathing, even if it killed him, even if it nearly killed  _ Dark.  _ Even if it meant losing these,” he pointed to his empty sockets. “The Host would have gladly taken Dark’s placed if he wanted it, and Dark knows this, and yet he didn’t let The Host. Because of this imbalance, Mark has had horrible nightmares that have nearly killed him multiple times and, he could only watch. Wilford has tried many times to get rid of them, but the nightmares are not his job. They were, they  _ are,  _ Dark’s job. But he was not here to do that job.”

Dark took a deep breath so that his voice wouldn’t waver.  **“Yes, and I told you, Mark needs his thoughts and imagination much more that he needs his nightmares and fears. If you would’ve gone, he might have had far less nightmares, but he would have been expressionless and miserable. If Wilford does do as much as you claim him to do, he couldn’t have done anything because there would be nothing to work with. It would have been like trying to paint a canvas with no paint; pointless and bland. At least with me gone, he had a chance. And now I’m here, so things can balance out again. No more nightmares, no more fear of him dying, it’ll all go back to the way it was before it all happened,”** his voice was shaking by the end, but it wasn’t weak. Dark honestly didn’t expect to have this conversation so soon after returning, but he assumed it was better now than later. Better with The Host rather than with Wilford.

“Yes… The Host is…  _ I am…  _ relieved for you to be back. But Dark must understand, if he keeps up what he’s doing with Mark, the boy will grow dependant on him.  _ He  _ will grow dependant on Mark. Then this whole thing will start over again, only this time, The Host doesn’t think it will turn out as nicely for all of them,” he cautioned, wiping a stray blood drop from his chin.

**“You mean like how you grew dependant on him?”**

The Host froze, all signs of movement stopping harshly. The fingers tapping stopped, breathing ceased. The only life on his entire being was a single blood drop running down his face.

Dark wondered if he was remembering all of those years ago, when he wasn’t The Host. The bandaged being has done this a few times since Dark’s been back, usually being triggered by certain phrases or feelings, but they never lasted long.

This was different, however. The Host stayed in this unmoving state for much longer than before, and Dark began to think what he said was too low of a blow. It was a sore spot for The Host, and he knew that, and yet he said it anyway. His anger management has really gone out the window since he’s been gone, hasn’t it?

The dark being curse himself under his breath, stepping closer to The Host until he was right in front of the other.

**“Host,”** he said, placing his greyed hand on the bandaged being’s shoulder.  **“Are you in there?”**

Rapid mumbling came from The Host’s mouth, so fast that most of the words became lost to Dark’s ears.  **“Host,”** he tried again, shaking him harder than before.  **“Snap out of it! It’s not happening anymore, okay?”**

In the mumbling and jumbled words, one word was able to reach Dark’s brain.  _ “Neverland,”  _ The Host was mumbling, and with that word he lurched back with a gasp. Dark instantly hurried back to give the being space. The Host’s hands were now trembling, teeth chattering as if he were cold, all common signs that he just got out of… whatever happened when he went into that sort of state. Dark shoved down the feeling of guilt and pity for him, knowing that it wouldn’t solve any of their problems.

“I-I,” The Host stuttered, regaining his composure swiftly. The tremble never quite left his hands, and the quiver didn’t do away, but he remained firm. “The Host hopes Dark will at least try to talk to Wilford. They do not have to make up or become close, but some sort of order must be restored between the two. Dark just simply existing does not mean order. They must realize that nothing will ever truly be the way it was before without this.” He took another deep breath. “Now, if you must excuse The Host, Mark is going to wake up in exactly 3 hours and 42 minutes for school, and he would like to make sure he stays safe, as should Dark.” And with that, the bandaged being recreated his chair and sat, down, resuming his crossed legs and arms, more soft words spilling from his mouth. It was like they had never had the conversation in in the first place.

Dark stared at the back of The Host’s head for several seconds, trying to take in everything that was just said. He knew that the bandaged being was right about most things, including the unsaid hate between him and Wilford. But there was so much not said, so much not acknowledged. Dark guessed you could only work out so much at a time, even if they were important.

The dark being walked over beside Mark, The Host’s unseeing gaze on him the entire time, no words directed at him. The boy still seemed so innocent, even after what happened so long ago. Did he even remember what happened? Perhaps The Host or Wilford wiped his memory, meaning Mark wouldn’t know who The Host or Wilford were. That would explain why the boy didn’t seem to recognize him.  

Without looking up, he asked,  **“does he know?”**

For a long moment, The Host said nothing. Then came the quiet, “no.”

Dark just nodded, not keen on asking any more questions, at least for tonight. He let his form be absorbed into Mark’s sleeping form, back into his domain of dreams and nightmares.

The Host watched over the boy sleep, narrating everything and directing evil away from their place.

And Wilford Warfstache, well, he helped in his own way.

All three? Well, balance has its perks. Well, if you can control the balance, that is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	8. Piano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy! Things are about to get juicy. Enjoy your eighth chapter!

Mark and Dark laid in a meadow, the boy with his eyes half closed. It was so peaceful here; the gentle breeze accompanied by Dark’s lights humming, the warm sun above, the soft grass below, everything.

**“Is there anything you’d like to do, little one?”**

Mark hummed, turning on his side to snuggle next to the dark being. Dark chuckled, running his fingers through the boy’s hair with cool fingers.

**“I could show you something, if you’d like,”** Dark said softly, looking down at the boy.  **“I would be something you’ve never seen before.”**

Mark looked up lazily. “What is it?” he questioned sleepily. He would really like to see whatever Dark was talking about, but right now his limbs felt like sap. How was it that you could get sleepy in your own dreams? Mark didn’t know, but it sure happened a lot.

**“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, little one,”** the dark being teased with a chuckled. Mark rolled his eyes at that.

“Why would it be a surprise?” he questioned, a little bit of sass coming out in his voice.

Dark chuckled again.  **“Well you see, this place you would be seeing is very important to me, so I thought you would like to see it. If I tell you, it would ruin the magic behind it,”** he continued.

“Is it magic? The place you’re talking about?” Mark wondered, yawning.

**“Little one, every place has magic if you look hard enough for it. But yes, this place does have its own special kind of magic,”** Dark explained. That perked the boy’s interest, some excitement and curiosity replacing the tiredness he felt.

“Okay, let's go see it then,” Mark exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. Dark shook his head fondly, sitting up with the boy.

**“If you insist,”** Dark smiled, grabbing the boy’s hand and with his own.  **“Close your eyes, little one,”** he instructed, and Mark did just that, squeezing his eyes shut. There was a feeling of the world being sucked in around him, the warmth disappearing and cold taking its place. Mark gripped Dark’s hand tighter until the movement stopped, a solid ground underneath forming. Mark slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly as he took in the world around them.    

“What is this place?”

Dark smiled down at the little boy, gesturing upwards with his hands.  **“It’s like a ballroom, but less fancy and without the people. It’s more for private music concerts and things like that,”** the being explained, walking further into the large room.

Mark tilted his head all the way up, admiring the beautiful room around him. The ceiling felt like miles above him, curving into a dome at the top and revealing the sunlight behind it through windows. The walls were a cream and gold color, swirling together in spirals all the way to the top while large marble pillars jutted from different places around the room, each a unique style, pattern, and size. The boy was in awe, slowly turning around in a circle to get every detail in. It was almost  _ too  _ much to take in, all the gold and swirling patterns making his head swim.

Mark’s eyes gradually made their way back down to Dark, who was now standing in the middle of the hall. He couldn’t help but think how out of place the being looked in this room, how he seemed to suck the white and gold from the very atoms of the walls, replacing them with grey and black. But it never lasted long, each movement from Dark shifting his lights and shadows in another direction.

“It’s really pretty,” Mark exclaimed in amazement, watching how the light from the outside made the gold glitter and shine like the sun itself.

Dark’s face was lit with his own wonder, focused mainly on the boy in front of him. Mark really did look like an angel in this room, just like he thought he would, what looked to be a halo around his hair due to the light patterns. It made the being want to keep him here forever, but he pushed down the urge.

**“I knew you would like it,”** Dark said, crossing his arms behind his back.  **“I was hoping to show you a few things here.”** With the wave of his hand, a large, grand piano appeared in the middle of the room, right next to Dark. Mark blinked in surprise, still not used to the way the dark being could create anything with the flick of a wrist.

An odd sense of deja vu overcame Mark for a second, the scene in front of him suddenly familiar in a way he couldn’t explain. But at the same time, it was different, like the memory was someone else's instead of his own.

Just as quickly as it came, it disappeared, replaced with a feeling of curiosity and joy. He’s seen his mom play the piano a few times before, singing to him while she did so. He wondered if Dark would do the same.

**“Well come over, little one,”** Dark chided, beconning the boy over.

Mark did just that, bouncing over to the dark being happily and mimicking him as he sat down on the bench, lights instantly molding around him. “What are you gonna play?” Mark questioned, head tilted.  

Dark hummed, flexing his fingers in thought. The boy listened to them pop and snap, thinking back to when Dark had snapped those monsters bones. Mark quickly shook himself out of that memory, not wanting to dwell on it.

**“I don’t exactly have a specific song in mind, but I have an idea,”** he told Mark, positioning his long fingers over the keys of the piano. The being took a deep breath, relaxing his shoulders and back into a more natural position, Mark’s eyes watching him intently.

With smooth practice and ease, Dark began moving his fingers along the keyboard, beautiful notes singing from it. Mark became breathless at the sound, the music mesmerizing him as Dark’s fingers flew from note to note, each press perfect and precise. It threaded through his mind and body, becoming the only world he could process. Dark’s lights seemed to sing along, emphasizing certain notes and tuning into the piano as background noise.

It was flawless, it was amazing, it was everything Mark could think of, but something was wrong. Something was so  _ wrong. _

There would be rests where the music would stop, and something about them just seemed… off. Like they weren’t supposed to be there, and yet they were. Like there was something missing.

Here could almost hear it now; something delicate and sweet, yet powerful and fierce all at the same time. But what was it? Where had he heard it? Who played it?

The piano was so loud, it was so consuming and he couldn’t think, why did it suddenly sound so harsh? So cruel, so evil so  _ wrong- _

**“Mark? Mark!”**

The boy could faintly hear Dark’s voice, calling out to him desperately. Was he still sitting up? He didn’t think so, his vision blurry and room spinning with gold, with black and blue and so much that he couldn’t see. They were hiding from him, hiding everything-

_ "Missing,”  _ Mark gasped out.  _ “Where? Where are they, where are they, where are they?!” _

**“MARK!”**

Something cool brushed against his skin, yet it burned the boy and he recoiled from it, yelping as he scrambled to get away from the source. The world around him tilted dangerously from side to side, and he was sure he just fell to his back. Breathing became harder, lungs only taking in miniscule gulps of air. The sound of something soft and melodic strained to reach his ears, begged to be remembered in his mind, but he couldn’t. Something stopped it from forming.

_ Why does it hurt so bad? _

The boy wanted to cover his ears and cry, but his body became paralyzed in the shaking of the air and the feelings of cold and warmth, gentle and harsh, love and hate. The piano still echoed in his bones, the vibrations making his muscles ache and head scream. Everything was so  _ wrong,  _ this wasn’t how things were supposed to go- they had to be here somewhere, right? They had to stop hiding, they had to stop  _ now.  _

“Come out!” Mark yelled, swinging what he thought were his hands wildly. “Come back, come back, come back! You have to come back!” Were tears rolling down his cheeks? It sure felt like it, the salty wetness on his tongue and liquid burning his eyes. Everything was burning his veins, yet freezing ice covered his skin. Mark gasped as a vision entered his mind; fuzzy and faint, but so clear.

It was some man, faced away from the boy. He seemed tall, way taller than him, anyway. Something long and silver was in his slender fingers, held to the side of his face. A sweet melody poured from the object, the sound ringing in Mark’s ears, numbing his mind and body from the burning and freezing feelings. The words  _ take me to Neverland,  _ echoed through the world around him, making Mark choke on his own air. He  _ knew  _ that line,  _ why did he know that line-? _

He wished he could see the man’s face. Who was it? Mark had the feeling he knew the man, knew that voice, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. If he could just turn around-

The fuzzy image and the voice suddenly froze, starting to fade away back into nothing. “No!” the boy called out, struggling to reach out to the figure. “You can’t go, not again!” What was he even saying? The boy didn’t know at this point, and frankly didn’t care, either. All he knew was that this man, that melody, was important. But why? It made the boy want to cry in frustration from it all: the piano, this confusion, the pain, everything.

Was someone calling out to him? Maybe, he believed he could hear the humming of a voice next to him ear, but he wasn’t sure. The boy was still trying to reach out to the figure, but something stopped him, pinning his arms and body in place. Mark screamed as the figure disappeared, and what brief memories he had of him melting away with him.

“No!” he yelled out again, voice cracking. Someone was trying to sooth him, whispering words into his ear that completely escaped his mind. All he could think about was that man, his voice and that melody, the memories that he struggled to hold on to. The piano, awakening something inside him he forgot was there, making him remember  _ something.  _ But  _ what? _

A bright flash of pink suddenly filled the boy’s vision, distracting him from the slipping memories. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block it out, and bright dots danced behind his eyelids. Arms wrapped tighter around him, a gasp falling from a beings lips, but Mark barely heard it.

_ “What are you doing here?!”  _ demanded a voice, the loud boom causing the light to grow brighter. The boy was starting to feel nauseous from the light, a wave of dizziness consuming him.

**“T… lk…. out that… ater. Ha… to get… h… out!”**

A low growling noise cut through the air, the light growing even hotter. Mark’s limbs went slack and useless, struggling to understand which way was up. More yelling swam through his ears, and the boy collapsed to the ground, darkness taking over his world and body.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.


	9. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya everyone! I just noticed that in my summary there was a grammar mistake, like, a BIG one. I've read that thing like a million times and I've just now caught it. Anyway, here's your 9th chapter!

Dark was beginning to panic.

To be fair, he had started panicking way before Mark passed out in his arms, but only now did he bring himself to admit it. Wilford Warfstache did that to you; made you feel things that you shouldn’t be able to, didn’t want to know you felt. It was one of the many reasons he hated the mustached personality.

**“Talk about it later! We have to get him out!”** Dark cried out as Mark’s eyes fluttered shut and didn’t open back up. His aura was going crazy, whipping in all directions and sizzling in the air. It was reacting to Wilford’s bright, obnoxious pink light that always appeared when he teleported, a light that never failed to make the dark being nauseous.

Dark could just barely make out Wilford giving a deep scowl, a look that wasn’t common on him. Granted, Dark hasn’t seen him in so long that it was hard to say anymore.

Was he even seeing him right now? He was still bathed in that light, only his outline able to be seen.

Dark mentally slapped himself. There was time to ask questions later. Now was not.

Wilford stepped forward, light growing brighter as he raised what Dark thought was a hand, placing it on Dark’s shoulder. In an instant the dark being felt a sharp tug at his navel, pulling him up and around with a gust of air, lights and various colors whipping around him. He held on tight to Mark, who was limp in his arms, but still breathing. Thank whatever gods above for that.

When the wind and pulling finally stopped, Dark gently floated down onto a familiar meadow, filled with colorful wildflowers and tall, lime green grass. The being glared at Wilford, who happened to be right beside him.

“Really?” Dark snapped, stepping back away from the mustached being hurriedly. “Of all the places you could have chosen, you chose  _ here?”  _ To be honest, it could have been a lot worse, but this place, the place where they were first created, was bringing up too many memories right now. It was giving Dark a headache.

Wilford snorted, no longer consumed in that pink light. He looked very different that how Dark remembered him, taller, more muscular and defined. Instead of the curly, longer hair that Dark recalled him having, it was shorter on the sides and longer in the front, just barely covering his right eye, much like Dark’s was. The long, red and white over coat was gone; a short sleeved pale yellow undershirt, pink suspenders and bow tie, along with tan dress pants was in their place. It was odd to see him this way, more professional and almost  _ normal  _ looking, but Dark knew that was far from the truth. He supposed he himself had changed a lot in appearance as well, however. No longer did he have the blood red hair or the sharp, cat like black fingernails that Wilford never failed to tease him about. He couldn’t see Wilford’s precious gun or any knives on him, but that meant nothing when it came to the mustached personality.

“That’s how you greet me after not seeing each other for so long? I’m touched,” Wilford said sarcastically, the signature slur in his voice ever present. Dark glared at him, trying not to let his anger get the best of him.

**“No thanks to you,”** he snapped, aura lashing out around him, but the mustached being remained unphased.  **“And you didn’t answer my question.”**

Wilford shrugged, crossing his arms. “It was the closest place I could bring both of you,” he nodded towards Dark. “I see you’ve made your presence known to little Mark. You do know what happened last time one of us did that, right?”

The sweet air turned sour at that, Dark scowled and tightening his grip on the boy, who was still out cold. He was so helpless, so fragile like this.

**“I am aware,”** Dark said slowly.

“Then you know that you should stay away before it happens again.”

Dark’s aura snapped again, anger spilling into every crevice of his being.  **“And let** **_you_ ** **protect him? After what you’ve done? You’re just as foolish as you were all that time ago if you believe I’d do** **_that.”_ **

Wilford clenched his hands, his own anger coming into show. “Yes, because I thought  _ you  _ of all people would understand the consequences of getting to close! You saw how it ripped us to pieces, how it nearly killed Mark the first time! Why the bloody Hell would you do it  _ again?!” _

**“Because last time I left him alone for so long, he nearly died, multiple times, and you and The Host never did shit about it! When I finally got to him, he was half dead! You claim to want to protect him, yet you haven’t done anything in the time I’ve been gone, and you** **_still_ ** **haven’t done anything since I’ve been back! You’re his fucking personality and heart, yet you can’t find it within your own self to at least** **_try_ ** **to help him!”** Dark roared, his aura setting Mark on the ground as he stormed over to the mustached being so that they were nose to nose. Wilford’s eyes narrowed dangerously, pink sparks flashing in his eyes.

“How  _ dare you,”  _ Wilford hissed, baring his teeth. “I’ve done all I can to help him!  _ You’re  _ the one who hasn’t done their job! If you would have come back sooner, this would have never happened in the first place!”

**“No thanks to you!”** Dark retorted, red lights lashing out as if to whip the other.  **“If you hadn’t ripped out The Author’s damn eyes and turned him into The Host, none of this would have ever happened!”**

Wilford’s eyes flashed again, a full blown snarl covering his face. “If you would have just listened to me  _ and left Bim out of the whole thing  _ this would have never happened!”

The air froze at that, both beings holding their breath. They both knew in that moment that they had taken it too far, gone someplace that wasn’t meant to be touched yet. Even after all this time, that wound was still too fresh.

Dark took a deep breath, stepping back and closing his eyes. He hasn’t thought about Bim in such a long time, and now that his name pierced the air, he couldn’t get the image of the being out of his head. His happy, go lucky face. Those nerdy glasses. The perfectly pressed suit. The thought made Dark fiddle with the cuffs of his own suit self consciously, just now realizing how similar they were.

Shifting came in front of the dark being, a long breath sucking in air. “Look, Dark, I know that things between us have never been good, and probably never will be. But you have to understand; Mark was having a  _ seizure  _ when The Host called me. I’ve never heard so much panic in his voice, I’ve never seen that much  _ blood  _ coming from his eyes since… well, you know. Whatever you were doing with Mark, whatever you were  _ showing  _ him… it was hurting him. You need to  _ stay away  _ before you awaken all of those memories that we all tried to shut away, before he  _ remembers.  _ You have to understand that,” by the end, Wilford’s voice was so soft that it could barely be heard.

Dark opened his eyes, the orbs trailing to Mark’s sleeping form. The news shocked him; how on earth had a simple piano trigger a  _ seizure  _ to his real body? His mind went to the things he was calling out, how desperate he sounded and how broken his voice became. What had he seen? Why did it make him react that way? What did that stupid piano have to do with it? Dark found that he couldn’t answer any of those questions.

**“Yes Wilford, I understand, it’s just that-”** Dark cut himself off not sure what to say. How do you describe the feeling of being wanted, of feeling loved and cherished by someone so important to you? Especially to someone who’s never felt it before? The dark being didn’t know how. It would have been like a scientist trying to lecture a mechanic on the functions of the universe; in theory, they might understand, but until they  _ really  _ saw it, nothing would ever be accomplished.

“That you feel like you could never let go? That you are meant to protect him alone and without anyone else? That it’s like a drug that you never realized you got addicted to?”

Dark blinked at that, not expecting the answer he got from Wilford. What did the mustached being know of the feeling? As far as Dark knew, Mark has never met him.

**“How do you-”** he started, but Wilford cut him off.

“The Host has described the feeling many of times, old friend. Believe me, I would love to know that feeling as well, but after what happened the first time...I could never bring myself to put the boy into that much pain again. You saw yourself what happened when you merely  _ triggered  _ the  _ start  _ of a memory. Imagine what it would be like if Mark had to go through it again,” he explained, running his fingers down his suspenders mindlessly. “Please, Dark. I can’t stand back and watch as what happened to The Host happens to you. If you won’t listen to me, at least try and understand for  _ them,  _ for The Host and Mark. You have to distance yourself from him.”

An odd feeling bubbled up in Dark’s chest, something like pain and fear, things he wasn’t supposed to feel. Were his lungs collapsing? They felt like it; breathing becoming harder and harder. He knew that was what Wilford was going to tell him, what The Host was trying to tell him all along, but it still hurt. How could he leave Mark now, after all he’s done for him? The boy would surely be confused and greatly hurt by his sudden disappearance.

But then he thought about what happened to The Host, what happened to  _ The Author,  _ and how bad he got, how many people he slaughtered with a flick of a wrist. Then he thought about Bim, how his purpose and very existence was ripped from Mark with a single moment.

He thought about Wilford, tearing out The Author’s eyes in blind rage.

How they had to wipe Mark’s memory.

How The Author became The Host.

How Dark nearly faded with Bim.

How it took him so long to be able to return to Mark’s being.

Dark gasped, burning forming behind his eyes. He had to stay away from Mark, that much was clear to him. He had to make sure he stayed safe, of course, but he couldn’t be close to him like he was now. Too many things could go wrong, so many unwanted memories stepping out of the shadows unexpectedly. The Host was right after all. He was rarely wrong.

**“Do you think the seizure, whatever happened to Mark… had something to do with The Host? He never talks about what happened between them…”** Dark whispered. Wilford shrugged in response.

“I’m not sure what caused it, and I’m sure The Host will tell us on his own time, when he’s ready,” the mustached being said, and Dark was struck with how much Wilford had seemingly matured over the time he’s been gone. He was sure the man was still as eccentric as ever, but for this moment, he was everything Dark complained about him not being.

Dark took the deepest breath he could in attempt to settle his nerves.  **“I’ll do it,”** he said lowly.  **“I’ll stay away from Mark.”**

Wilford smiled sadly, looking down at the boy. The grass swayed gently around him, and they both suddenly had the impression of him being a pixie.

“You know you’re doing the right thing,” Wilford told Dark confidently.

**“Yeah,”** Dark quietly said, voice distant and airy.

He had to be doing the right thing. He had to.

Dark kneeled next to the boy, running his grey fingers through his hair gently, feeling the soft strands. Mark nuzzled into his fingers, letting out a small sigh. The dark beings cold heart melted, a piece of himself breaking as he fully understood what he promised to do. No more talking to Mark. No more creating worlds for him to discover and explore. No more of his little one in his arms.

Wilford’s hand landed on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “You’re doing the right thing,” he repeated, voice monotone.

He was doing the right thing.

Dark waved his hand, and Mark disappeared from the meadow, leaving the two beings behind.

They had to do it. They all knew what happened to The Host. They all knew what happened to Bim.

They all knew what happened to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	10. Promise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya everyone! Enjoy your 10th chapter~

Blank. Empty. Bare. Nothing but pure, unknown darkness.

It was so cold. When did the darkness become so cold, so… unwelcome? When did it become so harsh and unforgiving? It has never felt this way, not as long as Mark could remember, even when the nightmares were a common part of his life.

Where was Dark? The boy could vaguely recall the name of the being made of shadows and humming lights, the one that made the deal with him to always be in his company whenever he slept, and in return he would keep away the nightmares. So where was he? Wouldn’t this count as breaking their deal? Did that mean the nightmares would come back?

The boy floated aimlessly in the darkness, no way to tell where he was going. Part of his mind was wondering when the nightmares would come back now that Dark wasn’t here, but the rest was too fuzzy to think straight. Most of the time, his thoughts were blank, full of nothing but darkness. Mark couldn’t feel any part of his body, not even his eyes, and he couldn’t tell if he ever blinked or not. It was too dark to tell the difference.

Blank. Empty. Bare. Nothing but pure, unknown darkness.

It was so cold. Had it always been this cold? Mark couldn’t remember, but the faint image of a man dressed in shadows and humming lights pulsed in his memories. Didn’t he make a deal with that man? He would make all his nightmares go away if he met him every night in his dreams, right? Then why wasn’t he here? Did he do something to upset the man?

There was a piano. It was singing the sweetest melody, something so soothing and beautiful… before it became a nightmare. Did it become a nightmare? Everything hurt after it played, so it must have been… but that man was there! He promised to make all of the nightmares go away, didn’t he?

Blank. Empty. Bare. Nothing but pure, unknown darkness.

Why was Mark here? No nightmares? That seemed weird. The boy tried to move, only to be surprised when he couldn’t. His limbs felt heavy, yet felt like nothing at all at the same time. What was this place, anyway?

It was so cold,  _ too  _ cold. He wanted out. But how do you get out of… whatever this place was supposed to be? Mark tried to think of a way out, but his thoughts were so disoriented and fuzzy, it was like a fog was hovering over his brain. All he could think of was the black, darkness around him and nothing else. He floated aimlessly in the darkness, not sure where he was going, if he was going anywhere.

Blank. Empty. Bare. Nothing but pure, unknown darkness.

Then, in the distance, he saw what he thought was light. That  _ is  _ what light looked like, right? It stood out against the darkness, shining brightly, yet was nothing but a pinprick. However it slowly grew, bigger and bigger until it overtook the darkness and Mark was in its clutches. The boy blinked rapidly, now able to feel his own body again. The light gradually became shapes and colors, until he found himself staring up at a familiar looking ceiling fan and blue ceiling. For a few seconds everything was numb and peaceful, the whirling of the fan giving Mark a wonderful sense of familiarity and calm, before it all shattered in a millisecond.

It happened so fast that the boy didn’t even realize that it had happened in the first place. His head started to pound harshly, muscles screaming at him and mouth filled with sawdust, dry and scratchy. Mark gasped at the pain, the fan above him swimming and shaking back and forth, it continuously growing closer and getting far away. His stomach dropped; weightlessness filling his body and bile rising in his throat.

He barely had the strength to roll over so that his head wasn’t on the bed before he heaved, throwing up whatever was in his stomach. The boy shuddered, everything protesting to his movements and sudden sickness. The pain sharpened with every passing moment, until he could do nothing but scream from it. It hurt so  _ bad,  _ everything hurt  _ so bad- _

Within an instant, thudding footsteps could be heard. The sound ricocheted in his ears, the aching in his head getting worse. Someone opened a door, the door to his room?- before screaming his name.

“Mark?” yelled the person, rubbing his shoulders. “MARK!” 

Mark could only take in shallow breaths, his vision blacking out every few seconds. The pain finally became too much to bear, and his mind succumbed to the consuming darkness once again.

Blank. Empty. Bare. Nothing but pure, unknown darkness.

 

  
Dark stared at the boy. 

He looked much paler than he did a few hours ago, his skin almost transparent with how easily you could see his blue veins. Mark’s breath was short and quick, and while it was much better than it had been an hour ago, Dark didn’t like it one bit. For one of the few times in his existence, he was terrified. Seeing the boy laying here, IV’s plunged into his arms and wired to a machine in the emergency care at the hospital scared him shitless.

This was his fault.

Whatever Mark had seen, whatever had been triggered in his mind, was caused by the dark being.

“The Host told Dark something like this would happen.”

Dark didn’t look up. He knew before The Host spoke that he was there, watching both of them with his unseeing eyes. It still gave him the creeps, but he was more used to it now.

**“I know.”**

“The Host told Dark that Wilford Warfstache had always helped in his own way, despite what he thought of him.”

**“I know.”**

“The Host told Dark to stay away from Mark no matter how much he wanted to protect him and shut him away from the outside world, given what had happened the last time one of us did.”

Dark growled, aura snapping along with his neck.  **“I KNOW!”** his voice boomed in the small hospital room, no one able to hear him besides himself and The Host. No one else had ever been able to see or hear them without their consent besides Mark, and he was currently out cold.

The Host waited till the other being’s temper flare calmed, his aura receding back around him, shoulders slumping like a kicked puppy. He knew all of this, yet he continued to make his presence known to Mark. It looked like he hasn’t changed or learned much since before; he was still the hot headed, over confident jerk that he had been all that time ago.

“What did Dark show Mark?” The Host demanded softly, voice just above a whisper. There was a slight tremor in his voice, but from anger or fear Dark didn’t know. Either one would be reasonable.

**“I just… played the piano for him. The next thing I know, he’s on the floor convulsing like a dead rat, screaming about something, and now this-”** Dark hissed, gripping at his hair. It still bothered him that he didn’t know what happened then. The song he had played, while it seemed unspecial to the usual listener, it was the song that he was created to know. When his very being was first created, he knew that song without even thinking about it, ‘playing his soul out,’ as Bim had always put it.

Bim. Oh, Dark really missed Bim.

They all had a song, The Host, Wilford, and Dark, and once again, as Bim had put it, they were all supposed to play the song together. It was supposed to represent harmony between all of them. Whatever God above knew that that was far from the case, however.

Now that he thinks about it, Dark’s never actually heard The Host’s or Wilford’s song, though they haven’t heard his, either. Bim claimed he didn’t have one, even though he was insistent they all had one in their ‘soul’ or whatever.

From behind him, The Host’s breath caught. “Did you play…  _ the song,”  _ he questioned, putting emphasis on the words. Even before he was the The Host, the bandaged being always tredded oddly when it came to the discussion of the songs they had.

**“Yes, but I’ve singed the song to him before, I’m not sure why playing it at the piano would be any different…”** Dark trailed off, rubbing at the collar of his suit. Mark always seemed to love it when he sang that lullaby to him, what about the piano made it different?

“The Host does not know exactly why Mark reacted this way to Dark’s song, but it should be avoided in the future. This cannot happen again,” the bandaged being rushed, sounding breathless. Dark turned to ask him a question when a sudden flash of bright, pink light filled the small room. The dark being instantly covered his eyes, cringing away, while The Host remained unmoved.

When the light finally died down, Wilford stood in its wake, panting lightly. His eyes darted back and forth, gun clutched tightly in his hand. Blood was splattered all over his form, hair disheveled and wild.

Staring at the mustached being, old but hot sparks of anger burned in his chest. Here Mark was, half dead and in a hospital, and Wilford never bothered to show up until now. When the dark being had sent Mark away from his dreams, the mustached being had just… disappeared from existence. It was like he was never there, which seemed appropriate given what little Dark has yet to see him do.

**“Where have you** **_been?”_ ** Dark growled, balling his hands into fists.  **“We’ve been here for** **_hours_ ** **and you’re just now showing up?”** The Host said nothing, watching the interaction between the two beings with his mouth pressed into a thin line.

Wilford’s darting eyes landed on Dark, letting the darker being see just how crazy they were, the blatant madness that consumed his being.

“Oh, Darky! You’re back! How long has that been a thing? Hosty, you never told me dear old Darky was back,” Wilford giggled, practically skipping over to the other and slinging his arm around his shoulders. Dark was too stunned to react, confusion filling him. He Wilford had met just hours ago! What did he mean The Host never told him he was back, especially when the bandaged being had made it clear that they should speak to each other again to start and try to mend old wounds?

Dark made eye contact (not the best choice of words) with The Host, trying to convey his confusion with the other. The Host still said nothing, staring blankly at the two. Dark narrowed eyes, realizing he would have to figure this out himself.

**“I’ve been back for a while, Wilford. The Host has told you many of times, I’m sure,”** Dark said carefully, not sure where to go with this. Wilford raised his eyebrows, leaning in closer so that they were pretty much nose to nose. Dark struggled to lean away, but the mustached being’s hold on his was like steel. Damn, when had Wilford ever been that strong?

“No, I’m sure you’ve just came back! I would remember Hosty telling me something like that, I’m sure,” Wilford went into another giggle fit, pulling The Host close the same way he did with Dark. The bandaged being didn’t protest, much to Dark’s surprise, letting himself be pressed against Wilford’s side.

“Would you look at us! Were all back together again! Oh, and Markimoo’s here too!” Wilford cheered turning them all the face the boy. It shocked Dark in that moment, him understanding that this was the first time he, The Host, and Wilford Warfstache have been in the same plain of being in such a long time. There was an old longing to be like this again, to be in ‘harmony’ like they were supposed to be, yet at the same time, the desire to get away before they all reacted to each other again. One on one was one thing, but them all together, with no Bim to act as some sort of barrier, was something completely different.

Dark sensed Wilford’s shift in mood instantly when he saw Mark. It was an odd mix of excitement and confusion, excitement to see the boy, but confusion on why he was in the hospital bed. The dark being saw Wilford look around him, only now really taking in his surroundings. The mad personality started to dim, arms dropping from The Host’s and Dark’s shoulders, stepping slowly to the boy. Dark watched in mild fascination as the mustached being stood next to Mark, hovering his hand over his body (the one with _ out  _ the gun) and moving it back and forth over his chest. Mark shifted, moaning slightly before he went still again. Wilford dropped his hand limply, shoulders hunched over in what looked to be exhaustion. Black circles were now under his eyes, the blood all over him dried into dark red stains.

Dark made his way to the other side of Mark’s bed, hoping to catch Wilford’s eye. The other beings eyes were glassy and dazed, like he was halfway between a dream and reality and was trying to figure out which was real.

**“Wilford?”** Dark whispered.  **“Are you alright?”**

“It happened again,” Wilford said sadly, not looking up. “It’s my fault again, isn’t it?”

Dark blinked, not sure what he was talking about. Was it about Mark, being in this weird coma of sorts?

“No Wilford. This is all of our faults.”

Dark looked over to The Host, who was at the foot of the bed. His arms crossed over his chest, head tilted up as if he was listening to some unheard tune.

**“No. It’s my fault. I should’ve stayed away, but I let myself get addicted. I have to stop before I kill all of us,”** Dark proclaimed, trying to feel some sort of conviction within himself. He would try to keep this promise he keeps making, but if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he could. Even now, he could feel the urge to reveal himself to Mark again, to go inside his dreams and fill them with wonder and magic. The urge to snap the nurse’s neck for touching his little one, to throttle Wilford for not being here sooner for him. This had to be why The Author did what he did, right? If it was, Dark would have to control himself before he went on a killing spree.

Wilford hummed, stroking the silver barrel of his gun. “I wish we could show ourselves to little Marky. Could you imagine the fun?” he wondered dreamily, the gun disappearing in a puff of pink smoak.

“Believe The Host, he wishes they all could present to Mark, but it’s too dangerous,” The Host said monotonically.

They all stayed silent at that, and Dark took the moment of silence to listen to the steady beeping of the monitor next to him. Why couldn’t they go back to that time, that time when everything was much more simple? Where Wilford and he fought over trivial things and he didn’t have this weird splitted memory, whatever was up with that. Where The Host was still The Author, and he had his eyes back. When Bim was still here.

“I miss Bim,” Wilford spit out suddenly, as if he could read Dark’s mind. The name of the lost being sent a sharp tingling feeling down all of their spines, all of them remembering how he was the only one that could actually talk to Mark without all of… this happening to him. The boy never actually remembered Bim, but the fact that his constant presence never caused a dependance or an urge to hurt everyone in sight… it frankly amazed the dark being. He wanted to do that.

Dark had the feeling they all wanted to do that.

“The Host would like to remind Wilford that they all miss Bim, but perhaps the one who misses him the most his Mark himself, given he was the boy’s humanity. Mark doesn’t even know who he is, but he knows Bim was important. We all have to try and fill his void, even though we cannot let our beings be known to Mark,” the bandaged being stated.

At that moment, Mark’s nurse walked in, passing right through Dark had if he was made of mist. The lady checked his head, adjusted a few things with his IV’s before walking right back out. Dark felt that desire to rip her head off her shoulders again, and he gripped his pant leg to stop himself. He really was too far gone at this point, wasn’t he?

The mustached being hummed, deep in thought, before he held out his hand palm down and fingers spread out. “For Bim,” he mumbled, swirling pink eyes staring intensely into Dark’s black ones. “We’ll try to do what he can not.”

The Host was the first to respond, his own hand facing palm cup and shaped like he was cupping water, placing it over Wilford’s hand. “For Bim.”

Dark hesitated, a sour taste filling his mouth. It felt wrong, doing this promise without Bim, knowing his hands won’t be there to seal it. The bond would still work, but it wouldn’t be the same.

With another moment, Dark caved in, positioning his hand with his fingers facing downwards towards The Host’s cupped hand, as if to dip his fingers into the water. There was no hand on either Dark’s or Wilford’s wrists, where Bim would usually go, but the swirling of pink, blue, and black stilled formed in their hands, the colors blowing into a whirlwind around them, waiting for the final promise from the members of the bond.

**“For Bim,”** the dark being whispered, and with that, the colors exploded outward into the room, covering every surface inch it could find. Mark was not touched.

“We can still do good, even if Bim’s not here,” Wilford said confidently as the last of the magic faded away.

Dark was not so sure.

He stared down at the boy, wondering what he was dreaming about. Probably nothing, seeing that Dark wasn’t currently there, but he still wondered.

Would there be sweet dreams, like he and Dark laying on the grass?

Or would they turn into horrible nightmares that threatened to rip apart his soul?

As the darkness grew inside of Dark’s chest, he felt as if he knew the one  _ he  _ wished to be the case.

**_You’ll be mine,_ ** Dark thought to himself as the world around him shrank until it was nothing but him and Mark.

**_And there’s nothing they can do to stop me._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	11. Nothing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your 11th chapter~

Mark felt numb.

All of the energy was sapped from his limbs, and wondered in the back of his mind if he had just run a marathon. He remembers someone saying that whenever you ran one, you became really tired, so maybe that’s what he did? That didn’t sound right, but it was the closest thing he had.

The boy struggled to open his heavy eyelids, each ray of light that he saw sending a wave of pain through his head. His ears just barely picked up a beeping sound, something constant and loud. Feeling slowly prickled into his body, soreness settling into his arms from… something. Maybe something sharp and pointy?

Mark tried to open his eyes again, forcing himself to keep them open. Everything that he could see was white; the ceiling, some sort of bed he was on, the curtains, everything.

_ Am I in a… hospital?  _ Mark thought to himself, wanting to sit up. Now that his eyes were open, he could see what was making his arms so sore: various needles with fluid dripping into them. How long have they been there? The boy felt like he’s been there forever, his body still trying to wake up and throat dry. He really wanted some water.

The curtain in front of him opened, a lady in scrubs and a stethoscope behind it. When she saw him, she gave a surprised, “oh!” before composing herself.

“Hello Mark, are you feeling alright?” she asked him sweetly, walking to his side.

The boy opened and closed his mouth like a fish, not sure which question to ask first. “W-here, wh-why-” Mark stuttered, voice hoarse and scratchy. The lady gave him a sympathetic look as she explained what happened.

“You see, Mark, you had what’s called a seizure. When you have one of those, your body goes through a lot of energy, making you very tired and unable to do many things. You might say you just ran a marathon in five minutes,” she added almost cheerfully, like Mark’s situation amused her. It was making him uncomfortable, how cheerful she was.

“Mara-thon,” Mark mumbled to himself.”W-where’s… mama?”

“Oh, yes! I’ll be right back with your mom. She’s been very worried about you,” she said before walking out of the room, closing the curtains behind her.

With only the sounds of the beeping thing next to him to keep him company, Mark was left to his own thoughts. He didn’t notice it at first, but now it felt like there was some sort of gaping hole in his chest, like something was torn out. It was an unpleasant feeling, as if there was a collapsing lung in his body, crushing him from the inside out and making it hard to breathe. It was like everything yet nothing at all.

The boy didn’t like it one bit.

Was he forgetting something? Mark had the sneaking suspicion that he was, something important and that he wasn’t supposed to forget. With each moment that passed, the hole grew bigger in bigger, spreading throughout his entire body, thoughts becoming murky and undefined.  

“Mark, honey?”

The boy snapped out of his daze, the odd feeling fading away slightly. It was still there, but much duller now. His eyes focused on the voice, seeing mom there in front of him.

“Mom!” he called out, voice still hoarse. He reached out as if to hug her and she came closer, grabbing his hands and placing kisses all over them. Mark pulled her closer, not caring about the needles that digged into his skin. “Can we go home?” he asked, ready to get out of this place.

His mom sighed sadly, shaking her head. “We will soon, honey, but right now the doctors need to do a few things to make sure you’re alright,” she explained, holding his hands tightly, like she was scared he would disappear.

“Is it ‘cause of the seizure or whatever?”

His mom nodded, rubbing circles into his hands. “I promise we’ll go home soon, but for now we need to make sure everything is fine,” she seemed to be saying more for herself than Mark, but the boy didn’t push it. He would do these weird tests for the doctors if it made her happy.

“Okay, mama,” he told her, the nothing feeling pushing through his veins.

  
  
  


“Has he had any seizures before?” 

Mrs. Fischbach wringed her hands together, nodding. The doctor scribbled something down on a piece of paper, mumbling to herself.

“How long ago was this?”

“About four or so years.”

More scribbling.

“And he hasn’t had any problems before now? No severe medical issues or physical disabilities?” 

The mother took a deep breath to keep herself together. This was proving to be harder than she previously thought it would be.

“He also had a brief episode where he couldn’t remember almost anything, but that was with the seizures. In more recent times, he has, in a way. He’s had very bad nightmares for a few years now, and a few time they’ll get so bad that his heart stops or his breathing gets cut off,” Mrs. Fischbach said, trying to make it sound simpler than it really was. That it didn’t cause her anxiety every hour of the night.

The doctor furrowed her eyebrows. “Have you contacted medical professionals about this? That sounds pretty severe to me.”

“If you look on Mark’s form, you’ll see that Dr. Helms had prescribed many of medication for Mark to try. None of them have worked, and besides, he hasn’t had any for some time now,” she informed the doctor. The doctor flipped through papers, seeing that indeed, the boy has tried many of medications in the past few years, all treating some unknown illness having to do with extreme nightmares.

“Well, that’s all I need to know. We can’t keep Mark any longer. We’ve done all the tests we can do, and all of them have come back negative,” the doctor stood up, and Mrs. Fischbach shot up with her.

“You’re telling me you can’t find  _ anything?”  _ the mother demanded, hardly believing her ears. “He’s had these seizures before, what if they start happening again? He nearly died the last time they happened, and you can’t give him a medication, a treatment,  _ anything?” _

The doctor sighed. “I’m sorry Mrs. Fischbach, but we can’t give a child any of the medications that you would usually give to someone with a seizure problem. We thought he had epilepsy, but he doesn’t, and he’s so young that if we gave him the medicine without knowing for sure what the problem was, it could seriously hurt him and his development.”

The mother took another deep breath, frustration threatening to tear through her composure. “Okay. Okay. But what if they happen again?” she asked desperately.

“The best we can do is help him when he has the seizures. We can recommend some things to avoid, some tips for helping him out. Other than that, we can’t do anything.”

The mother’s heart clenched, beating faster with fear for her boy.  _ Please,  _ she begged, looking to the ceiling as if some god would hear her plees.  _ Let him stay safe. I can’t go through this again… _

“You still feeling alright honey?”

Mark blinked, looking at his reflection in the window. He didn’t really feel like talking, but he wanted to reassure his mom that he was alright. 

“I’m okay, mama,” he told her, not looking away from the window. It was raining outside, and the clear drops splattered on the window. The boy followed a drop down the window, watching it disappear into a small pool that had gathered on the little lip of the car.

He didn’t hear his mom say anything back, but he wasn’t completely sure if it was because she didn’t say anything or if because he didn’t hear her. Either way, the boy couldn’t find it within himself to care. He hadn’t felt any real emotion since he had woken up and saw his mom for the first time, everything after that just felt… blank. Empty. Like his ability to feel had just… disappeared.

There was nothing.

Mark stared into his transparent reflection, trying to see anything that resembled a thought, an expression that proved that he could still feel. Nothing of such was to be found. The numb tingling in his chest intensified, and time became irrelevant, every sense dulling into mush, thoughts unable to form.

Then next time the boy blinked, the car had stopped and in front of him was house. His house, he had to remind himself, the memory of the place leaving him for several seconds. This is where he lived, where he slept and where his family was.

It was kinda hard to see it right now, though. The rain had grown heavier, the drops smudging and blurring the house so that only the general outline could be seen.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Mark?”

Mark turned to his mom, staring into her worried eyes. He expected to feel some sort of sympathy for her worry, especially after what she must have just been through with him. But like before with everything around him, nothing appeared. Just emptiness.

“I’m okay, mama,” he repeated, opening the car door and into the rain. The cold water instantly soaked through his clothes, but the temperature didn’t seem to bother him. He actually loved the feeling, loved how he could feel each individual crystal droplet as it landed on his skin, how cool and crisp it was. It made him think that maybe he could feel after all, that he wasn’t an emotionless, walking corpse.

“Mark!” his mom called out, opening her own door and rushing over to her son. The boy felt her grip his shoulders, her hands much warmer than the rain. “We need to get you inside before you get hypothermia!”

Forcing his feet to move along with his mother’s, Mark stumbled up the driveway, neary slipping many of times on the slick concrete. When the two finally made it to the door, Mark’s mom unlocked it quickly and with surprisingly steady hands. They hurried inside, the warmth shocking them both after the cold of the outside.

Water dripped down Mark’s arms and hair, it falling down to stain the carpet beneath, and the boy shivered, just now getting cold.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” his mom instructed, and Mark lost time again as she gave him a set of fresh, new, warm clothes to change into, drawing a bath. Before the boy could blink properly, he was washed, dressed, and tired from doing… well nothing. Nothing that people would usually get tired from. Did normal people get so exhausted from seizures like this? Mark didn’t know; he actually didn’t really understand anything about it. He tried asking a few doctors about it, but every time they went to explain it, the medical mumbo jumbo would get lost to his ears.

“Mama, can I go to bed?” Mark questioned, pulling at his mom’s long sleeved shirt. She too had changed, long hair wrapped up into a towel. It always reminded Mark of ice cream, the way the towel swirled.

“Of course, honey. Do you want me to tuck you in?”

The boy nodded, and his mother smiled. He didn’t smile back, but she didn’t seem to notice this. The mother and son walked hand and hand to the boy’s room, the mother tucking him with as much motherly care as she could manage, kissing his forehead and bidding him goodnight.

“Sweetie… will you promise to tell me if something is wrong?” she asked seriously, making sure that Mark was looking her in the eye.

_ No.  _ “Yes, mama.”

His mom tucked a piece of stray hair behind his ear. “Thank you. Goodnight, Mark.”

“Goodnight, mama.”

And with that, she walked out, softley closing the door behind her with a  _ click,  _ the world around the boy becoming dark and full of shadows. Something in his mind was hesitant to fall asleep, telling him that something bad would happen. But here, in this warm bed, feeling safe after so long of nothing, and the aching of his tired limbs eventually won him over, forcing him to submit to the darkness of his dreams.

In the corner of the room, a shadowy figure with glowing red eyes could be seen. Hissing filled the air, about to strike-

-and another figure appeared in the room, a being with bloodied bandages and a trench coat, snarling words at the shadow figure. The shadow being instantly cringed back, melting back into the walls and away for another night.

The Host took a breath, glad to have caught to figure before anything had happened. He conjured up a chair, sitting in it and facing Mark. He crossed his legs and arms, leaning back slightly and allowing gentle words to flow from his mouth like water, the rain in the background soothing him.

It was unknown to The Host that a different, more deadly monster residented inside of Mark’s mind, waiting to be freed with a moments notice.

This monster however, wouldn’t be so easily defeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	12. Cane

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your 12th chapter~

Everything was moving, shifting around Mark. Hallways became dead ends, a mirror turning into a room, a seemingly harmless houseplant suddenly spitting out deadly poison. The boy ran aimlessly, trying to find a pattern in the manors constantly changing format. The sounds behind him only spurred him on.

_ Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk _ .

They were slow, steady, the exact amount of time between each sound the same. It was the signature sounds of one of Mark’s least favorite nightmares.

Cane.

Once again, the boy didn’t know if that was his actual name or not, but he called him that due to the cane he always walked around with, and the loud, echoing thud that it made everytime it hit the ground, the clunk of his shoes never far behind. Cane never moved fast or with intent; he always seemed to wait for Mark to turn himself around, to take too long in deciding which pathway he was going to take. It terrified the boy to no extent, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the monster was right behind him.

Mark ran hard through one of the many parlors in the manor, weaving in and out and around various chairs and furniture, including a large, grand piano. He was almost to the other side when he tripped on a loose piece of carpet, causing him to tumble to the ground with a yelp. A low, almost good natured chuckle came from behind the boy, followed by the telltale  _ thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. _

Mark scrambled up, knees burning slightly from the carpet, and stumbled into a run. He escaped the parlor only to find himself at a dead end, the closest exit he could see on the other side of the room. The boy began to panic, heart rate accelerating. He had to get to that exit before Cane found him, before the monster could torture him.

The boy went through the parlor again, slower this time. Each moment that passed, the sound of Cane getting closer ringed in his ears, Mark’s muscles clenching in fear and from being on constant edge. He still couldn’t see the monster, but the boy could picture him perfectly in his mind; the slicked back hair, not a strand out of place, the fancy suit that had some odd tail trailing behind it. His hands covering the marble head of his long, black and silver cane, and that seemingly kind and welcoming smile that could turn cruel and hateful in a second. Cane was one of the few monsters that actually looked human, but he was the furthest from one. That was probably why Mark feared him so much: he looked and sounded nice, right up until that last moment. He tried to get you to trust him before he ripped out your spine, snarling and mouth full of fangs.

_ “Common Mark, just let me say hello!”  _ cheered Cane, sounding even closer than before. The boy’s heart skipped a beat, and he shoved the last pieces of furniture out of the way as he finally made it to the exit. He threw open the crystal door, hearing it crack from the force, but ignored it. He didn’t have time to worry about it.

Mark dashed down the hallway, not paying attention to the walls and things around him, doing his best to block them out completely. The last time he stopped to look around, the floor became hot, burning, tar like liquid that refused to let him go for several seconds. The boy had been able to see the outline of Cane before he got away the monster was so close, and his calves still felt hot from the liquid.

_ “Maaarrrrrk,”  _ sang Cane, farther away now, but Mark refused to relax. He knew the monster could teleport nearly anywhere in the manor that he wanted to, even though he liked this cat and mouse game much more that simply appearing right in front of his victim and taking them out.   _ “Why won’t you let me talk to you, Mark?” _

“S-stay away!” Mark yelled weakly, mostly out of breath by this point. He pumped his legs harder, daring to take a glance around him to somehow find a way out of the manor. He was sure that if he found a way out of this place, Cane wouldn’t have any control of his surroundings anymore, and the boy would be free from his sphere of control.

_ “Let’s play a game, Mark,”  _ Cane suggested lightly, as if it was a regular Sunday occurrence between the two.  _ “You find the exit of the manor, I’ll let you go! If you don’t,”  _ the monster chuckled, suddenly menacing.  _ “I get to do what I want with you,”  _ Cane hissed, the sound of something shattering piercing through the hallways. Mark flinched, nearly losing his footing, but kept on. There was no doubt in the boy’s mind that Cane just broke something with his cane, in rage or in a show of power he didn’t know, but either way it terrified him.

He also had the feeling he didn’t have a choice if whether or not he wanted to join this ‘game.’ Either way, the boy would be trying to find the exit, with or without the ‘game’ part added to it. If anything, the stakes were just raised higher for him; the want to escape clearer than ever.

The hallway began to turn oddly, at the smallest angle to the left, and more and more objects started to populate the hallway. They first showed up in the walls; pictures and drapes and curtains covering them from head to toe. Mark pretended not to notice at first, still afraid that they would collapse and crush him underneath the second he stopped, but it soon became too much to ignore.

Things like dressers and random thick mats suddenly came into being, and the boy had to dodge and jump around them in order to get passed. His lungs were screaming at him from all the physical exertion, begging him to stop and take a break, but Mark refused to give into his body’s wishes. It would be the death of him if he did.

_ Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. _

Mark about jumped out of his skin, not realizing how close Can had gotten until now. When had that happened? He must have used whatever powers of this manor he had to find a shortcut to his position.

_ “Just give up, Mark. I will always catch you in the end,”  _ the monster growled, sounding as if he was right behind the boy. The kindness in his voice was gone, revealing what kind of creature he really was; heartless and ruthless. Mark didn’t reply, trying to save as much energy as he could, but it was a losing battle. His legs felt like overcooked noodles, muscles flimsy and practically useless at this point. His running had slowed down so much that at this point he was merely jogging. The constant walking of Cane behind him was the only fuel he had anymore.

_ Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. _

Had Cane’s footsteps gotten faster? It was hard to tell really, but Mark’s frantic mind thought so. They were so  _ loud,  _ they must have been right behind him. The boy was too terrified to turn around to look, scared of what sight he would see.

Then, just as he was about to give up, he saw it. The door.

Now, one might think that this was just a regular, one of hundreds of doors in the manor, but Mark knew better. It was tall and red, a simple gold door knob on it. There were no designs, nothing else special about it, but to the boy it meant everything. To him it meant that he found the exit, and that he could finally get out of this wretched Hellhole, leaving Cane and his mind games behind. He’s seen it dozens of times before, but he’s never been able to reach it.

He couldn’t give up now.

With the last of his willpower, Mark pushed forward towards the door, tuning out the world around him. All that mattered was him and that door, his chance for escape-

And then there was a wall made of shadow and obsidian right in front of him, and Mark couldn’t stop fast enough to not run into it, falling to his back. The shock and pain of running into the giant structure was overpowered by the despair he felt once he realized that the door was now gone. All air was rushed from his lungs, not from the impact, but from the fear closing in on his being.

The boy was unable to move as slow and steady footsteps came from behind him, now much slower than before. Mark’s heart climbed to his throat as he tried to move any part of his body, but he couldn’t. A noise of desperation came from the back of his throat, but he couldn’t. He was paralyzed, the only movement allowed was his breathing, and even that was restricted. He was helpless, nothing but prey to the monsters in the manor.

_ Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. Thud, clunk. _

The sight of Cane now above his paralyzed body made the boy whimper in horror, now looking the monster dead in the eye. They were a bright and lovely blue, glowing gently in the darkness. On anyone else, they would have been beautiful, but on Cane, they were horrible and ugly. They did not match the sinister smile, the disgusting laughter that came from his lips, the terrible thumping cane that he always carried with him.

_ “I win, little Mark,”  _ Cane said, bringing his cane right next to the boy’s head. The sound echoed in his head, and he wanted to cringe away, but he still couldn’t. He could only stare up at the monster, completely at his mercy. There was no chance of escape from him now.

_ "That means I can do whatever I want.” _

In an instant, Mark was shot to his feet, some invisible force pulling on him. Cane swung back his cane, bringing it down on Mark’s shoulder swiftly. A sickening  _ crack  _ rang through the hallway of the manor, hot white pain shooting through the boy. A broken cry came from him, but that was all he could manage.

Cane smirked wider, eyes flashing with glee and excitement. He brought back the cane again, this time swinging it to Mark’s other arm, hitting his elbow. Another  _ crack  _ was heard, and tears welled in the boy’s eyes, lungs struggling to gasp in air. He could only stand there limply as the monster hit him over and over again, breaking bone after bone until there was no bone left to break.

Once Cane realized this, he threw the cane, digging his sharp fingernails into the boy’s body to amplify the pain. Mark screamed, thrashing the best he could in the monsters hold, but his grip only tightened, cutting into the flesh and causing blood to pour out.

This continued for what felt like hours to the boy, but he couldn’t figure out how long. Time became irrelevant in the cycle of consuming pain that filled his every moment. Can refused to lead up, finding new ways to bring Mark more pain and suffering.

Finally, after everything had left Mark’s body, his willpower, his ability to even make noise, Cane stopped. The monster took a step back from the boy as if to admire his work, tilting Mark’s chin up with his hand. The boy didn't resist, letting the Cane do as he pleased. He was quite sure the only reason he was still upright was due to the invisible force of the manor holding him up.

The monster ticked his tongue; blue eyes flashing with some sort of desire, but he held himself back. Mark wasn't sure if he should be happy or sad about that, but his brain was too fuzzy with pain to care. At this point, he wouldn't mind dying, just for everything to stop, for everything to be at peace. It would be nice to get away from this manor, from this monster that glady broke him to pieces.

_ “I would love to kill you myself, but unfortunately, my boss forbids it,”  _ Cane said longingly, letting go of Mark’s chin. The boy’s entire face dropped to his chest, no energy to keep it up. He didn’t have the mental capacity to wonder who Cane’s boss was supposed be be, or why they wanted him alive at all, but like with many things with Mark at the moment, he didn’t care.

_ “However, he didn’t say I couldn’t kill your spirit or your sanity. I think I’ll lots of fun doing that,”  _ the monster chuckled, picking up his cane again. Mark looked at it blankly, no reaction able to form, studying the marble top. Would Cane hit him with it again? It seemed unlikely, but you never knew what the monster was thinking.

Cane tilted his head, as if he was listening to something in the distance.  _ “Yeah, yeah, I got it,”  _ he seemed to mumbled to himself.  _ “I got it.” _

With one last glance at Mark, Cane brought his cane back again, preparing to hit the boy with it one last time. Mark watched this with a sense of finality, as if something would finally bring him away once it came down.

_ “Goodbye, Mark.” _

And the cane was swung at him for a final time, a  _ snap  _ from his skull being the last thing to boy heard before he was sent spiraling into the never ending darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	13. Forest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy your 13th chapter~

Mark woke up slowly and surely, not entirely aware of anything around him. His limbs were heavy and filled with sand, like they hadn’t moved in a long time. It was a weird feeling; the boy really wanted to move, but didn’t all at the same time. He peeled his eyes open, watching his ceiling fan spin hypnotically. There was an odd sense of deja vu from this, and he wondered if when he moved if he would throw up again. He didn’t think so. No pain ever came to his head and his muscles never cramped up on him. 

The boy sat up, limbs finally getting rid of that sappy feeling. Mark looked around his bed, seeing that the only covers that had been disturbed that night had been the little cove he wrapped himself in. Everything else was perfect, not moved an inch. He must have slept so deeply that he never moved at all.

Mark thought he should feel some joy in this, the refreshing and deep sleep that allowed him to feel much better than he did yesterday, but he couldn’t find it within himself to be happy. It was like a cloud was hanging over his head, ominous and dark, pouring rain down on him without letting any sunlight through.

Did he dream last night? He wouldn’t remember doing so. All he could think of was blank, empty darkness.

It was better than nightmares.

At that very moment, something loud and repetitive went off next to the boy, causing him to turn towards the sound. It was his clock, the neon numbers reading  _ 7:30.  _ It was blinking rapidly like it was trying to get his attention, and it slowly dawned on Mark that he had school today, and the alarm was meant to wake him up.

The boy leaned over and turned off the clock, sliding out of his bed and down stairs, where his mom already was. Dad must have already been at work. When his mom saw him, she immediately stopped what she was doing, making toast, and ran over to him. 

“Oh honey!” she exclaimed, kneeling down and feeling his forehead. “I forgot your alarm was set! You don’t have to go to school today if you don’t want to.”

Mark thought it over for a second. He really didn’t want to go, didn’t want to deal with all the people, but at the same time, the idea of staying home cooped up all day, nothing to do, sounded even worse.

“I’ll go to school,” Mark said blankly, mind made up. 

His mom furrowed her eyebrows, brushing away a piece of hair from his eyes. “Are you sure?”

The boy nodded firmly. “I’m sure, mama.”

“Alright, alright,” she mumbled to herself, getting up to get her toast before it burned. While she did that, Mark went back to his room and got dressed, not choosing any of his usual attire. Nothing seemed right, nothing stood out to him. His bright and colorful wardrobe didn’t feel appeasing anymore.

Finally he settled on a dark blue shirt and a pair of jeans, heading back downstairs to see that his mom had made him French toast, one of his favorites. However, he didn’t feel any glee in this, just ate the breakfast food slowly and blankly. He registered the sweet taste, but it just didn’t make him happy like usual.

Perhaps there was something wrong with him.

If there was something wrong with him, he couldn’t find the will to care. It was like nothing mattered anymore, and he was floating through his day to day life. It was an odd feeling.

Half paying attention to the world around him, Mark sluggishly got his bookbag together, put on his shoes and got into the car with his mom. She drove him to school, at least the boy assumed she took him to school. He’s not sure where else she would be driving to.

For whatever reason, she came into school with him. Did she always do that? Mark couldn’t recall her coming in with him any time before, but there must be a reason she was coming in.

Once they made it to his classroom (he was sure that was where they were) his mom went to the teacher, talking to her in hushed tones. Mark didn’t hear what they were saying, placing his bag into his cubby and getting out his folder and pencils. When he turned back around, his mom had stopped talking to the teacher. She quickly gave him a kiss on the head and told him to have a nice day and tell Mrs. Morgan if anything is wrong. The boy gave her an expressionless reply, saying he would. His mom pressed her lips into a thin line, giving him a long look before finally hugging him tightly and walking out of the room. Mark watched her leave, staring at the door long after she was gone.

“You ready for a new day, Mark?”

The boy looked up at his teacher, seeing how her expression changed when she saw his face. That bright smile became a little more forced, a little more stiff and confused.

“Sure,” Mark said, making sure that he held eye contact with the teacher until she looked away to do whatever teachers do in the morning. Mark certainly didn’t know.

The boy stayed there for a while, not moving and unsure what to do. He really didn’t want to talk to anybody, even Tyler, who kept looking at him with a vaguely concerned look on his face, but never approached him. Mark stayed there until the bell rang for school to start, and he inched his way to his desk as the announcements came on overhead. He could barely hear them, looking off into space and thinking about nothing, mind blank.

It was going to be a long day.

 

  
  
The next few weeks were even longer.

Mark could never find emotions in himself to express, everything bottled up inside him securely. It was like someone had cut off a faceset, letting it drain and dry until there was nothing left but dust and dirt. Nothing mattered to him anymore, not his friends, family, if he got in trouble or not, nothing.

It was especially telling when he hit a classmate with a rock without any remorse. All he remembers was that kid was annoying him, being rude and mean to him, and Mark got mad. Without any hesitation, he had picked up the nearest rock, took aim, and threw it at them, watching the heavy material break their skin. They started crying, but Mark didn’t care, even as the teacher ran over.

“What happened here?” Mrs. Morgan demanded as she tried to comfort the crying child.

“I threw a rock at them,” Mark told her matter of factly. “They were annoying me.”

The teacher looked at him with a mix of horror and shock, getting more teachers over to bring the child to the nurses office. And Mark? Well, the boy got sent to the principal's office, and they called home. He had to apologize to the child, but he refused, saying that that’s what they get for annoying him like that. Apparently that wasn’t an acceptable answer, because he got  _ another  _ phone call home, and he still had to apologize.

It was obvious to anyone half paying attention that Mark didn’t mean it. He said it so emotionlessly, so blankly, he might as well have not been there at all. It was like a puppet that no one had bothered to control, and it was just hanging there limply with no way to move.

He couldn’t concentrate in class anymore, mind to spacey to pay attention. One moment the teacher was discussing a different country, the next time Mark blinked she was saying something about math. It all became a blur to the boy, no rational thought from one moment to the next.

He became distant from his family, watching them from afar as they played games and enjoyed each other's company. He and his brother used to play video games with each other a lot, but that happened less and less. His mom and dad started to grow concerned for him, but Mark never took it seriously. How could he? It wasn’t like their worry meant anything in the end. It was just another thing in his life to deal with.

Tyler didn’t talk to him much anymore. The other boy seemed to pick up on whatever was wrong with Mark, and stayed far away from it. Whenever they met in the same room, Tyler stayed as far away as possible, as if he could sense something evil about him. Mark, like most things at this point, couldn’t care less about the other boy and whatever he thought of Mark. Tyler was a nuisance, anyway.

Eating became harder to do. The boy rarely found himself hungry, the smell of most food disgusting him too much to even try eating. Every day he would pick at the meal in front of him, even if it was his mom’s chicken and dumplings.

Most of his time was spent outside, away from everyone. Sure, Mark had always loved the outdoors, but now he practically lived there in the little forest right outside his house, staying as far away from people as he could. It was the only place that made him feel anything now. The squirrels were his only company, their chitter never bothering the boy like other things did. He even had the feeling if he talked to him, they would reply. But that was ridiculous.  

And, strangest to him, there were no dreams. Every time he woke up, he had the sneaking suspicion that he was  _ supposed  _ to be dreaming, but could never remember anything besides consuming darkness and the occasional glowing eyes. Either way, he was glad there were no nightmares, even though he wasn’t sure if he would react to them the same way he did before. Would he feel fear in them? Or would he be as emotionless and empty as he was in real life? It was hard to say, especially without having nightmares to remember, but he was still curious.

It was one of the few things he still felt curiosity about.

Mark stared at the tree in front of him, studying every inch of bark. Everything from the loan ant that slowly climbed the tree to the leaf that had fell and got stuck to the side. The wind gently blew at his hair, the smell of dirt and nature surrounding him.

It reminded him of something. What, he didn’t know. The memory was just out of reach, but it was there, trying to become stronger. Every time he was in this forest this would happen; the faint traces of a memory struggling to be set free. But something was blocking him from getting to it.

The wind shifted, and the scent of wildflowers became present, the sweet smell relaxing the boy.

What was he forgetting?

Was it a place, a sound? No, he had the feeling it was a person, someone important. Maybe it was more than one person, a group of people. It was frustrating Mark the more and more he tried to remember it.

It had something to do with this forest. It had to be. Why else would he feel this way whenever he entered it? Like some sort of feeling and thought was growing within him, like he was finally being complete?

“Mark, honey! Please come inside, we’re about to have dinner!”

Mark blinked out of his daze, gradually making his way out of the forest and back to his house. The second he stepped out, the memory vanished without a trace, all progress gone. He would have to go back in in order to get it all back.

The boy gave one last long look to the forest behind him, as if it would reveal all of it’s secrets. It did nothing.

Mark turned back around, not noticing the shadows of the trees reaching out as if to grab him, only to be stopped at the last second.

_ “Not now,”  _ a voice muttered, and the shadows retreated. Merging back into the trees.

_ “It will happen in due time.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	14. Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your 14th chapter~

In the corner of Mark’s mind, there was a room, an imaginary room that didn’t exist, but a room nonetheless. It was a strange room, forever changing with no definite shape or purpose. Nothing could control it, not even Mark himself, but it was not meant to be controlled. It was meant to forever run wild.

Imagination.

In this room, one could almost always find The Host, the master of the mind and imagination. He was never in the same place twice, but you couldn’t miss the soft narrations he always gave off as he wandered throughout the room. He was practically stuck here, not able to leave without completely fading, yet he was endlessly powerful inside this one room, able to send out projections of is form to wherever he pleased. The Host scared the most horrible of monsters and could predict the smallest of occurrences, every thing falling from his lips becoming a reality.

At least, that’s what Wilford picked up on the time he’s known The Host. The bandaged being never told him much, being the little cryptic shit that he was, but Wilford was observant. He knew the ins and outs of the mind himself, even if he had minimal control of it. His specialty was more in the physical sense, which is why he was always in the real world instead of this place.

Wilford walked further into the room, feeling his control on reality slip as he went further and further into the plain. He hated that feeling, but it was necessary for now. At least being here helped combat the never ending madness that swam and pressed in his mind.

The mustached being looked around the room, seeing the shape it had decided to take this time. As of now, it was almost like a broadcast station that Wilford himself had been in many of times, just more old fashioned and simplistic. The room was much smaller than it usually was, but he paid no mind to it. This corner of the mind had a whole different set of rules of its own.

Sitting in the chair, right in front of the microphone, was The Host, uttering soft sounds into it. Wilford couldn’t think of a time the bandaged being wasn’t speaking like that; under his breath in observant of the world around him. Well of course, there was always  _ before  _ he was The Host, but Wilford didn’t like thinking of that. 

There was a thin layer of static in the room, and the mustached being wondered if it was just his presence or something else entirely. This room… felt off, more off than normal. Wilford never felt particularly safe here, safe anywhere really, but now it was almost hostile.

Wilford coughed into his hand. “Is there a reason you called me, Host?”

The Host’s words suddenly stopped. No sounds were in the room besides the words, and even that was making Wilford uncomfortable. There wasn’t a place in Mark’s mind that was this quiet, as far as he knew of, anyway.

“Has Wilford Warfstache noticed anything off with the boy lately?”

Straight to point. No,  _ hey how you doing, weather nice in the real world?  _ or anything. Still being a cryptic little shit.

“Do you mean has Mark started strip dancing off, or as in he’s killed someone and is thinking about doing it again off?” Okay, maybe Wilford shouldn’t have phrased it  _ that  _ way, but he was slightly pissed off. Just before he came here he had to kill someone (it was a drug deal gone wrong, but whatever) and he really wasn’t feeling this whole thing. The Host knew he didn’t like being here, so this vague, pronoun bull would have to speed along if Wilford was going to stay interested.

A small growl came from the back of The Host’s throat, fingers now tapping furiously on his coat. “The Host means as in Mark had not spoken to anyone in nearly three weeks since the incident, and that he’s not eating, his sleeping patterns are off, and he’s started hurting people without any remorse kind of off,” he whispered harshly, standing up from the desk. “I was wondering of you might have noticed and knew what was wrong. Apparently I was wrong.” That last part sounded especially bitter.

The mustached being rolled his shoulders, trying to think of a way this wouldn’t end badly. He and The Host have never been best buddies, but he could try.

“Well, why don’t you ask Dark? He’s much better at this whole mind fuckery than I am,” he suggested, but the bandaged being shook his head.

“The Host has already tried Dark, but he is the reason The Host is asking Wilford. Something is wrong with Dark as well,” the Host turned around, his bloodied bandages eerie in the darkness of the room.

“Well could it be the seizure thing? Mark acted similar the first time… maybe he’s just relapsing? You said it yourself, it’s like going through a drug withdraw whenever you try and separate your presence from him once again, and golly do I know what that feels like.”

The Host took a step forward, chin tilting down. “Yes, The Host would like to think that is the case… but he thinks it is not. Mark has shown no signs of thought or personality since the incident, and it doesn’t seem to be getting better,” he explained. Wilford had a hard time of understanding why he needed  _ him  _ though; didn’t they go through this before? Didn’t they agree to stay away from Mark, especially since without Bim, it was destined to end up badly?

“Then what the Hell is wrong with him, then? And why do you need me?” Wilford questioned the other, taking a step forward. Wilford was never good at understanding people from the inside like The Host and Dark were. They were both mental projections, he was physical. It was why they spent all their time in Mark’s mind while Wilford was able to roam around in the real world easily. Heart and personality is a lot more on the outside than the inside. 

The bandaged being took a deep breath, as if he was readying himself for what came next, fiddling with the cuffs of his coat. “The Host is reason to believe Dark is the reason why Mark is acting oddly,” he said, so quietly it was like a summer breeze. At those words, Wilford’s eyes darted around the room. The dark being couldn’t hear them here, right? Sure, Dark had no reason to think they were talking behind his back like this, but it still put him on edge.

“You mean like when-”

“Yes.”

The mustached being clenched his hand into a fist, trying to calm himself. “But I thought we got to him before-”

“The Host doesn't think they did.”

“Shit,” Wilford cursed to himself. Of course, they didn’t make it before it happened. It never was that easy, was it? “Do you think it will be as bad as it was… with you? Do you think he’ll start killing people and trying to take Mark away?”

“If Dark hasn’t already, he will. The Host keeps sensing… dark, dangerous energy around Mark as he sleeps, but he cannot see what is going on. He cannot enter the boy’s dreams. The barrier The Host put around the boy so that he would forget about Dark is getting thinner,” The Host seemed to be rambling now, mostly to himself, as if he was trying to calm down. Wilford could understand. That beast had grabbed ahold of The Author and refused to let go, killing everyone in sight and forcing Wilford to rip out his eyes to vanquish it, thus turning him into The Host. If the same monster was controlling Dark after it had gotten another taste of freedom with the boy… then they were in serious trouble.

“Then how are we supposed to get rid of it, and I mean for  _ good.  _ It didn’t work the first time, so  _ something  _ has to keep that thing caged,” Wilford insisted, now pacing back and forth with nervous energy. Just the thought of that beast back again, taking advantage Mark and Dark, especially after what it did to Bim, made his stomach clench. He couldn’t watch another one of them fade into whatever void Bim fell into, never to be seen again to get rid of him like the first time. Mark was already without his humanity, he couldn’t afford to lose any of them without facing serious repercussions.

“The- The Host doesn’t know,” The Host stuttered, and it sounded to Wilford like he was slipping back into a memory of when he wasn’t The Host, something he did whenever he was stressed or was caught off guard. It wasn’t necessarily dangerous, but he couldn’t be doing it right now with what was going on, or, what Wilford reminded himself, they  _ thought  _ was going on. As little as they knew, that monster might not even be back. But they couldn’t take any chances. Not after last time.

“Well, if it’s like what it was for you, we have to rip out the part of him that’s being controlled,” Wilford mumbled to himself, running his fingers through his hair. It was a lot harder to think in this room that he liked, his thoughts being interrupted by the static. “Would that be his aura? Hands? Fuck, if I knew…”

“The Host does not think Dark would simply lay there as we decided how to get rid of the beast. He probably doesn’t even realize it’s there,” the bandaged being told Wilford. Great optimism, just what they needed in something as serious as this.

Wilford stopped his pacing momentarily, looking The Host as best as he could in the eye (well, you know). “Before we do anything crazy,  _ how do you know it’s in Dark?  _ Did you talk to him? Did you see it yourself? ‘Cause if you think I’m going to blindly follow you just because you say so, you’re wrong. I need evidence before I go charging into battle fighting a beast that nearly killed everyone the last time it appeared. And plus, Dark made a bond, and you can’t just  _ break  _ a bond,” Wilford said with as much authority as he could muster. He was not the best with words, but he’s be damned if he wasn’t going to try. “How do I know it’s not in  _ you?” _

The Host froze, everything in the room becoming silent.

“The Host- he,” The Host started, but couldn’t seem to go on. Wilford raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

“The Host- I know what it feels like, the beast. It’s… consuming, mind shifting, the master manipulator. I know what it feels like, I know it’s energy. I felt it around Dark before… but now it’s much stronger,” the bandaged being stated, and Wilford had to recover from the shock of him not narrating himself but instead talking… normally. For the first time since Wilford could remember, The Host was not speaking in third person.

“You might not believe me Wilford, but I have to do  _ something.  _ I could really use your help, but I will do it without you if I must,” The Host took a step so that he and Wilford were now nearly nose to nose. “Mark is in trouble, and it’s our job to protect him, even from his own dreams. We weren’t able to do that before, but now, maybe we can. But we can’t wait here and watch it fall around us, we have to do something  _ now.  _ Before something irreversible happens. That beast inside of him doesn’t care about bonds; it will do whatever it can to get what it wants, no matter the consequences.

“Please, Wilford. I can’t do this on my own. I can’t leave here, but you can,” The Host pleaded, sounding more and more desperate.

The mustached being let his posture soften, knowing that the other would be able to sense it. “Alright. I’ll help you, but,” Wilford paused, making sure The Host heard his conditions. “We do  _ not  _ hurt Dark. Do whatever you damn well please with the beast, but do to Dark like you did to Bim, then I’ll personally rip your heart out of your chest, and this time, you won’t survive.”

The Host seemed to chuckle, cupping his hand in front of him. “Would Wilford be more comfortable if we bonded the conditions?”

Wilford smiled, noticing how he changed back into third person. He spread his fingers, placing them underneath The Host’s cupped hand.

“The Host promises no harm will come to Dark or Mark, only the beast that tries to hurt them,” the bandaged being said confidently, blue magic spilling from his hand.

“I promise no harm will come to anyone but the beast,” Wilford said, and pink magic piled up on his fingers, mixing with the blue. With a flash, the two colors swirled into a typhoon and settled around the room, fading into the walls.

Wilford removed his hand, letting out a large sigh. He really did feel better making a bond on it, but it still made him jittery to think that Mark and Dark could get hurt. After this whole thing was over, he was going to have to keep and firm eye on the kid so that he wouldn’t hurt himself. 

“Why can’t things ever be easy?” the mustached being wondered allowed.

The Host gave a sad smile. “If everything was easy, The Host and Wilford wouldn’t be here right now. It’s the hard times that lead to the good ones.”

There he goes again, being all philosophical. One of these days Wilford was going to have to take a course on philosophy in a college or something just to understand half of the things that came out of the others mouth.

“Whatever you say, old friend. Whatever you say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	15. Abyss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm getting close to the end of this story. I wanted to say thank you for the support! Anyway, here's your 15th chapter.

Dark watched the boy closely throughout those three weeks, a sick sense of glee filling him as he observed how lifeless and broken he was. How his being and soul longed to find something missing, but couldn’t figure out what it was. How Mark was reduced into a shell of his former self, longing to be with Dark again, for Dark to protect him from the horrible nightmares.

At least, that’s what the dark being hoped. Mark never actually remembered his nightmares (thanks to him) but he did have them. Dark allowed Cane and the boy’s other nightmares to torture the boy, and as much as he hated it, it had to happen in order for things to go to plan. He had to make sure the boy would come running back to him when the time came, he had to make sure Mark would miss him and couldn’t live without him ever.

The dark being smirked from his place in the shadows, watching as the boy went into the forest again. His plan was working out perfectly so far, but he couldn’t afford to get cocky. The Host and Wilford couldn’t know what he was planning, or else they would try to stop him. 

That thought alone made Dark growl under his breath, the idea of The Host and Wilford trying to take Mark away from him. He would kill them both if he had to, he would rip out their spines and make sure he was the only protector of the boy ever again. They didn’t know what it was like to feel this loved, this appreciated, and they never would. All the boy needed was Dark and Dark alone.

The boy went further into the forest, and Dark followed him, watching his progress until he made it to the same clearing he always went to, whether he knew it or not. The being made sure Mark never remembered this place so that he would come back to it time and time again.

As Mark stared into the bark of the tree, Dark made his movements subtle and nearly nonexistent to not catch his eye. Softly he whispered into the boy’s ear, telling him he was forgetting something, something important, and that he must remember.

The blocks The Host put on him were good, but he was determined to break them. Everything could be broken at one point or another, something Dark knew rather well. With enough pressure and persuasion, anything can shatter. He’s done it many of times before, both on physical and mental things, and this barrier between him and his little one was no different.

Dark could see the frustration and confusion on the boy’s face as he struggled to grasp onto whatever memory he was missing. It was the same song and dance every time he came here, but the dark being wasn’t going to give up now. With each day, the barriers got weaker and weaker, Mark recalled more and more. 

Now all he had to do was wait for the time to come.

Mark stayed in the forest, staring at that one tree for hours, not moving one inch. The dark being whispered louder into his ear, curling his shadows around and brushing them against the boy’s skin. It was enough to make him gasp from shock and stumble back, and Dark instantly faded away so that he couldn’t be seen. Mark was wide eyed, blinking furiously as his mind was able to grab ahold of  _ something,  _ but what the dark being didn’t know.

The boy frowned, bringing his hands up to rub his arms as if to warm them up. Dark didn’t process temperature like humans did, and he guessed that Mark thought it was cold. He looked so confused, so dazed, like he had just woken up from a particularly startling dream and didn’t know what to think of it.

“...Dark?” the boy whispered, and Dark’s heart swelled, the desire to wrap the boy up right then and there and bring him away from this world almost too great to ignore.

But no. He had to wait. He had to make sure that Mark was his, and his forever, that there would be no Host or Wilford to take him away. Something like an animal had grown in Dark, getting stronger each day. The being welcomed it, knowing that in the end, it would get him what he wanted.

Mark.

And it seemed that after today, he would finally have him. But he still had to be patient, had to tread lightly. He could still be stopped.

The boy seemed to understand where he was, looking around slowly, into the trees and bushes. He made his way out of the forest, much slower than when he walked in, like he didn’t know how to get out. Dark helped him, making certain trees rustle and making noises that caught Mark’s attention. Within a few minutes the boy was out of the forest, and like Dark knew he would, forgot all about what just happened. He didn’t remember calling out Dark’s name, ever being there in the first place, nothing. He was a clean slate.

The being’s shadows reached out for the boy, but Dark quickly got them under control. They always did that whenever Mark left, wanting to keep him close, but he couldn’t let them do that. His plans would be cut to short, then there would be too many variables to consider. Like what he would do about The Host and Wilford, how to get Mark to completely disappear, everything. There would be a time to hold and protect him later, now he had to get everything in order.

Dark melted into nothing, appearing in one of the darkest corners of the boy’s mind, far away from dreams and happiness. The only light came from dim fires that lined the cavern walls, dancing red flames creating shapes among the black. There was no sound here except for the clicking of the being’s shoes, in they echoed sharply like gunshots.

Dark stopped in front of an abyss, toes just hanging off the edge. The hole was so dark that it absorbed all light that touched it, never to be seen again. All things that feel in here could never be returned; memories, thoughts, ideas, people, anything mental or physical.

It was the perfect place to throw The Host and Wilford in.

They would just… disappear into nothing. Mark would never deal with them again, and the boy would be his forever. It felt right, seeing that this was the exact place Bim had fell into all that time ago. Was the being still falling in the abyss, completely surrounded by darkness and memories? Or was he nothing but a speck in the makeup of existence? Dark didn’t know, and he never would if he had anything to say about it. He briefly wondered if the Hunter and Red Lady were down there somewhere, one with their limbs torn to shreds and the other nothing but a pile of ash. If they were, Dark hoped they were suffering. They deserved it after all they did to Mark, after how they treated him.

The being clenched his fist, aura lashing out as if to grab the nonexisting monsters. The red and blue ringed loudly, filling the abyss with sound and color. He chuckled, slowly turning into full blown laugher, but he couldn’t tell you what he found funny. Everything just seemed so simple, so easy! All he had to do was push Wilford and The Host into the abyss and he would be free!

Dark spread his arms, letting the shadows consume him with their power. He felt so alive, so  _ powerful,  _ and it was making him feel drunk. He’s never had this power before, but there was no way in Hell he was letting it go. 

The being looked up to the never ending ceiling, eyes glowing bright red instead of their usual black. Talons grew from his fingers, teeth sharpening, body growing bigger and bigger until his muscles strained against his suit. He was so powerful, he could destroy anyone, anything that dared try and stop him. The Host and Wilford knew nothing of this power, knew nothing of anything! They were just simple minded beings that took up space in Mark’s mind.

But not for long. Soon they’ll be no more, and they won’t have a say in anything. It will be nothing but Dark, Dark and his lovely prize. Desire pooled in Dark’s stomach just from thinking about it, having Mark all to himself. Having the boy in his arms, completely reliant on him, and no one but him. Mark giving him full control of everything, Mark loving him and only him.

**“Don’t worry little one,”** Dark said loudly to himself, as if the boy could somehow here him from this dark corner in his mind.  **“Soon, it will be just you and me, and there’s** **_nothing_ ** **they can do to stop me!”**

His aura grew bigger and bigger, eye glowing brighter until they were stars in the dark cavern. The walls seemed the bend towards the being as if he was a magnet, and fires going out in a rush of wind, and the darkness of the abyss rising higher and higher until it was in Dark’s fingertips. The dark being let the darkness invade every pore in his body, feeling his power grow with each moment. It was so amazing, this feeling, but he knew the feeling of finally getting Wilford and The Host off his back would be even better.

After a long moment, the abyss gave Dark everything it could manage, and it settled back down. The fires reignited themselves, walls going back into place. It was like nothing had ever happened.

Dark smirked, sensing his little ones tiredness from outside his head. Everything was so clear now, crisp as a bell. He could understand every movement Mark made, hear his heartbeat in his ears, feel his life in the palm of his hands. It was so  _ amazing,  _ and Dark knew now was the time.

**“I’m coming for you, Mark. And after I’m done, you’ll be mine,** **_forever.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	16. Imposter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ello everyone! Here's your 16th chapter~

_ “Maaarrrk.” _

The boy groaned, having been awoken from a deep slumber. The could have sworn he just heard a voice calling out his name… but that seemed improbable. Who would be calling for him this late at night, and so quietly?

Mark turned to his side, burying his head into his pillow. It was so warm, so comfortable, and the throes of sleep were right in reach-

_ “Maaaaaarrrrrrrrk.” _

“No,” the boy moaned, covering his head with his covers. “I don’t wanna.”

Something cold trailed up his legs, wrapping around his waist and up his chest. It was a weird, but not exactly unpleasant feeling, but it shocked him enough to make him open his eyes. The tendrils didn’t stop, going up to his arms and neck, coiling around like a snake and squeezing softly. Mark held his breath, suddenly wide awake and terrified. But they didn’t seem to have malicious intent, just simply holding him.

What the boy could only assume was a hand caressed his face, but the night was too dark to really tell. It brushed his hair, tracing his nose and cheeks until it reached his ear. His heart began pumping wildly, but he couldn’t move. The tendrils kept him pinned in place, preventing any sort of movement.

**_“Mark.”_ **

And the boy gasped, the vision of a tall figure dressed in a suit and surrounded by beautiful colored lights humming around him rushing into his mind like a tidal wave. He suddenly remembered meeting this man, making a deal with him, playing games and creating worlds together. How had he forgotten him, how could he have ever forgotten-

“Dark!” Mark called out, shooting up from his laying down position, the cool tendrils circling his body and the hand on his face disappearing from existence. The night didn’t reply, the sound of a lone owl being the only thing present in outside. The boy breathed heavily, heartbeat just now starting to calm down.

Dark. He had to find Dark.

Without thinking, Mark tore the covers off of himself and into the much cooler air, shivering slightly. It was the most he’s felt in weeks, both in the feeling and physical sense, and he thought it must of been because of Dark. The being must be the reason he’s felt so off, the reason he felt at all in the first place. It wasn’t until now, once he realized that Dark had just vanished from his life did he understand how much he missed him. How much he missed being held by him, the sweet songs from his voice, all of the wonderful dreams he could conjure up with the flick of his wrist. 

Mark jumped out of the bed, ready to find Dark by any means necessary, but something stopped him. Just how was he supposed to find him? There was nothing, not a sign, instructions, anything. He was on his own.

Just as the boy had decided to just walk off until he found Dark, it happened. It was soft, hardly hearable, but Mark could place it a thousand miles away. It was a deep, soothing melody that filled Mark’s veins and made him feel… safe. Loved. Everything that Dark made him feel whenever he sang that song.

**_“When you’re tucked away in bed.”_ **

Mark felt as if he was in a trance, walking to the voice without any ides of where it was actually coming from. It was like his body knew before his mind ever did, like he was just acting on instincts.

**_“Eyes shut tight in the darkness.”_ **

The next time the boy blinked, he was outside in the cool night. How that happened he wasn’t sure, only remembering being in the house a moment earlier. But it didn’t matter. Dark’s voice was louder, more pronounced. I meant he was getting closer.

**_“When the visions inside you head.”_ **

Now he was in front of the small forest behind his house, the trees swaying eerily back and forth with the wind, the wood creaking and throwing forever shifting shadows all over the ground and each other. No sounds of any animals were heard, not even an owl or frogs that were present everywhere else in the dark world. It was almost unsettling, how quiet and bare the forest seemed to be that night.

**_“Become haunting and lifeless.”_ **

Dark was in that forest. It was so clear to Mark, how loud his voice was now, how the boy was drawn to this place even without his guidance day after day without fail. Apart of him knew that what he was missing were in these vines and trees, he just never knew what until now. Without any hesitation, Mark stepped into the forest, all moonlight blocking out, being consumed by the silent darkness.

**_“Just call my name.”_ **

Mark stepped over various rocks and vines, trees that had fallen down and briars. He wasn’t so sure where to go now, desperately trying to figure out where Dark was, but the wood felt as if it was absorbing any sound that passed through. The boy could hardly hear his own footsteps, let alone the beings voice. It was making him panic slightly, not sure where to go and no way to get out. The forest was a lot bigger than he remembered it, more endless and forever expanding. He doesn’t recall there ever being trees this tall or wide, it ever being this dark, so dark that he couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. The boy was beginning to think that Dark wasn’t even here at all, and that he had been fooled. He hadn’t heard the being’s voice in such a long time at this point.

**_“And I’ll appear by your side.”_ **

Mark whipped around, Dark’s voice suddenly right by his ear. He sounded so  _ close,  _ he must have been right there. He  _ had  _ to be, if he wasn’t, the boy wasn’t sure what he would do.

“Dark?” Mark whispered, afraid to speak too loud in fear of awakening some sort of monster within the forest. It seemed to was becoming more and more probable for that too happen; the shadows growing even darker and the vines taking on more gastly shapes. It remind him of the Hunter’s woods, someone and someplace he hasn’t thought about in ages. But the similarities were almost uncanny, and the boy expected for the howling of wolves and the hissing of snakes to fill his ears any moment.

**_“I’ll give you sweet dreams.”_ **

And then, Mark saw him, blue and red lights glowing dimly in the dark pools, the outline of his figure gradually coming into view. It took the boy’s breath away, the surprise of seeing the dark being for the first time in weeks just then hitting him. 

Dark’s teeth shined, the light from them reflecting onto his grey face. It made him look like a ghost, that transparent, not quite there appearance, but there was no doubt in the boy’s mind that it was him. He took a step towards the being, feeling that trance like daze fall over his mind again.

**_“That they always try to hide.”_ **

The dark being’s mouth barley moved at all, but his voice rang loud and clear in the crowded wood, no longer muffled like they were before. The very sound made Mark melt deeper into whatever spell he was under, calm and security washing over him. It was just like he remembered.

**_“I’m your beautiful nightmare.”_ **

“You’re my beautiful nightmare,” Mark repeated, lifting his hand as if to touch the other. He really was, wasn’t he? To anyone else, Dark would be a terrifying creature, one of nightmares that slaughtered anyone in his path, much like the boy’s own monsters. Yet to him, Dark was some sort of savior, a protector. He made all the monsters go away, and in some sort of sense, that made him beautiful. 

**_“Trapped within your soul.”_ **

Mark blinked, watching Dark’s appearance shift under his skin, seeing sharp, dagger like talons, muscles bulging and ripping his suit, eyes becoming a dark, sickening red that illuminated everything around him. The boy startled, blinking rapidly to understand the madness in front of him. That couldn’t be right, Dark never looked like that. Why did he turn into that… thing…?... That…  _ beast?  _

But just as quickly as it had come, it vanished, leaving behind the usual, caring Dark that would do anything to protect him, a smile on his face just for him.

**_“The lullaby of the Dark,”_ ** the being reached out his hand, mere inches from the boy’s hand. It would be so simple, so easy to grab it and let Dark take care of him, to listen to him sing his fears away until there was nothing left to fear.

Yet, something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong.

Now that Mark was as close as he was to the being, staring deep into his void like eyes, he saw something that was not Dark, something fueled with fire and want, something animalistic and horrifying. In the depths of those dark eyes, red was bleeding and blending with it, struggling to stay hidden from Mark’s eyes, trying to give the illusion that the being in front of him was indeed Dark, but the boy knew better.     

This beast was not Dark.

The being realized this, seeing the look on Mark’s face. The kind and comforting look twisted into something sinister and cruel, teeth baring to show elongating fangs and a slithering tongue. His form grew until he was one with the trees, shaking the very earth to it’s core with its long, earsplitting roar.

Mark’s feet moved before his mind did, bolting as fast as he could away from the thing behind him. The boy dodge through the trees, jumping over rocks and weaving in and out through the vines. He had a flashback to how Cane chasing him through the manor, how Hunter tricked him the jungle, how the Red Lady tried to fool him by acting nice and becoming his friend. Right now, Dark was doing all of that, rolled into one horrible, living nightmare.

And this time, the boy knew he couldn’t wake up. This time he knew it just wasn’t a dream.

**“Common, little one!”** snarled the inhuman voice that sounded nothing like Dark from behind him. The boom of a falling tree made Mark lose his balance temporarily, but he quickly gained it again. He had to find a way out of these woods, there  _ must be a away out.  _ Even in his nightmares there was always a way out. 

But this one didn’t seem to have an end. The little cove of trees that Mark remembered was no longer that, it had turned into a full grown wildwood that one could easily get lost in.

But like many times before, the boy refused to give up. He would search for a way until he was in the monsters hands or dead. Either one of those options just made him pump his legs harder. 

**“Don’t you want to be with me forever?”** roared the beast. **“After all I’ve done for you, and YOU RUN AWAY FROM ME?!**

A tree right next to the boy came crashing down, and Mark was nearly crushed under the large object, the bark scraping his arm, making him yelp in pain and fear. Blood began dripping off his arm and onto the forest floor, and that seemed to excite the beast.

The cut burned, bringing hot tears to Mark’s eyes and blurring his vision. He messily wiped the tears, smearing blood all over his mouth and face, the metallic tang dripping onto his tongue.

**“You’ll be MINE! Just give it up, little Mark!”**

“No,” whimpered the boy, his worst fears coming true. “I want Dark!”

Another boom from behind, more than likely a shattered tree.  **“** **_I am Dark!”_ ** the beast proclaimed, but anyone could hear the glitching and broken sound that came from his voice. It was so desperate, so desperate for the boy, and that thought pushed Mark on further. For whatever reason, the beast controlling Dark wanted him, and if he had anything to say about it, it would never happen. Not as long as his heart was beating and he was on his own two feet.

_ “NO YOU’RE NOT!” _

That seemed to startle the monster, it’s footsteps faltering in from its previous pattern. It gave Mark a boost of energy, cutting around a particularly large tree agily and swiftly.

_ “Mark.” _

The boy’s eyes went wide, another completely different voice coming to his ears. It was quiet and monotone, but it filled Mark’s bones in a way no other voice had before. He instantly ran in the general direction he heard it, a gut instinct telling him that he would be safe with this voice, whatever they were.

The beast must have heard the voice as well, because the crashing behind Mark went back to their previous speed, even more force behind them.  **“No, no no! I won’t let you take him from me!”**

_ “This way, Mark,”  _ whispered the voice, a single rock glowing brighter than the rest, and he took it as a sign, especially since it was the only thing in the forest that had any sort of comforting feel to it. His instincts went to overdrive, listening to the voice and letting his body do the rest. He ignored the thing behind him for the most part, all focus on getting his footing right and not falling on his face.

_ “You’re almost there,”  _ the voice hushed, louder than before.  _ “Over here.” _

It was a waterfall, tall and filled with sparkling aqua liquid that looked more like syrup than actual water. Unlike the forest around it, it was full of sound and light. It must have been some sort of sanctuary or something, devoid of anything evil or dark.

**“NO!”** the cry was more broken now, more scared and fearful.  **“Mark, please!”**

That one word, and the boy froze in place. That one word, and Dark was back to normal, full of compassion for keeping him safe and nothing else. He turned around, panting from the long run, seeing not the beast, but Dark behind him. No more claws. No more fangs. No red eyes. Just Dark.

**“I shall forever be there, always know,”** Dark said with the light undertone of a melody. The last line of his song.

The boy watched in wonder as the being walked closer, humming softly as he did. It was such a familiar scene, so like the beginning of Dark showing him a brand new world, that he almost missed the voice.

_ “He’s lying.” _

Mark mentally shook himself, taking a step back away from Dark. No, this still wasn’t Dark, was it? It was still that beast, controlling his thought and actions.

“You’re not Dark,” Mark said as firmly as he could, trying to sound brave as he slowly inched his way towards the waterfall behind.

The being’s eyes flashed red, and that was all the confirmation the boy needed before he whipped around, sprinting as fast as he could to the waterfall. The beast roared, mixing with Dark’s voice and ran after the boy.

_ “All you need to do it get in that water, and I can help you.” _

Get in the water. Get in the water. He had to get into that water and the beast won’t go after him.  _ Get in the water. Get in the water. _

It was so close now, only a few feet away. The voice seemed to hold its breath, watching as the boy took one final step-

And the monster clawed at Mark’s back, scratching deep and hard. The boy screamed, falling face first into the water and staining the water red with his blood. The water rushed around the boy as if to protect him like a shield, attacking the beast. The beast lashed out, fire forming around him and evaporating the water.

**“You can’t stop me, Host! You know you can’t!”**

Mark crawled away the best he could, back on fire. In front of him in the water, a figure appeared, glowing blue and red. The boy looked on in awe, not entirely sure who or what he was looking at.

_ “I may not be able to stop you,”  _ said the figure, and Mark instantly recognized it as the voice that lead him through the forest.  _ “But that doesn’t mean  _ **_we_ ** _ can’t.”  _ The figure raised their hands, bright light coming from them, so bright that Mark saw spots when it was gone.

_ “I got you now,  _ **_bitch_ ** _!”  _ were the last words Mark heard as he turned to look at whoever said the words, seeing a flash of pink surround Dark like a vice, black shadows trying to combat the pink.

**“No! I refuse! I will have Mark and there’s nothing you, or he, can do to STOP me!”**

_ “Over our dead bodies!”  _ screamed the two other voices in unison, blue daggers coming out of thin air to stab at Dark’s exposed back. The beast howled, growing taller and taller.

**“Then so be it!”**

And the world became nothing but the swirl of pink blue and black, pressure so intense on Mark’s head that his ears popped and his nose began bleeding, everything disappearing into nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	17. Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's your 17th chapter~

_ “Dammit!”  _ yelled Wilford, expelling out more and more of his own aura to try and combat Dark’s. It was barely working; the beast inside of the dark being enhancing his power more than it has ever been. The occasional blue dagger from The Host jabbed at Dark, but that seemed to only make him angrier.

Dark growled, claws growing longer and sharper. He swiped at the mustached being, but he was able to move out of the way before he was hit. It seemed that the beast made Dark slower and less reactive, nothing but a large, terrifying monster.

The beast didn’t give up, lashing out again and again both with his claws and shadows. Even Wilford, who was used to fights, wasn’t a good fit for something like this. It involved too much mental mumbo jumbo that he wasn’t used to, but he had to keep going on. Mark depended on it.

Oh God,  _ Mark- _

The Host must have had the same thought at the same time, because the words,  _ “Go! Get the boy!”  _ were yelled frantically into his mind.  _ “The Host has Dark!” _

“Are you sure?!” the mustached being yelled back, taking one of his many knives and stabbing it into the side of a shadow trying to grab him.

_ “Yes!” _

Still hesitant, Wilford decided to trust the bandaged being, swiftly teleporting out of the way of the beast and into the raging vortex around them. He was not sure what the vortex was supposed to be, but he couldn’t think about that right now. He had to find Mark so he could go back to helping The Host take down the beast, and from the sounds of it, that wasn’t going so well. The Host couldn’t actually be there physically, being tied to the room and all, but he could set up projections of himself and extend the room into many parts of Mark’s mind so that he could travel easily. It was helpful, he wasn’t nearly as powerful as he could be, and against the beast, they needed all the power they had.

“Mark!” Wilford called out, trying to see through the mass of black, blue and pink. When Dark roared, shaking the world around them, the mustached being searched more frantically, teleporting around as fast as he could.

_ “MARK!”  _ he called out again. He was about to teleport again when he saw it; the pooling of blood a few feet in front of him. There was only one being the blood could belong to.

Wilford dashed towards the blood, seeing more and more of it. Panic flooded his system, knowing that all of this blood had come from one small child,  _ his  _ child, the one he was supposed to help protect from harm.

Then he could see an arm, legs, and the back of the boy, every square inch of skin covered in blood. It oozed from his back from three long, deep scars, his body still and unmoving. Wilford couldn’t even tell if the boy was breathing or not.

_ No no no no- _

The mustached being fell to the boy’s side, relief powering him once he felt a heartbeat and breathing coming from him. But he was still so hurt, so fragile looking. He hasn’t looked this bad since- well since-

Wilford forced himself to take deep breaths and get those thoughts out of his head. He couldn’t it nearly drove him to complete insanity the first time, he couldn’t do it again, not with Mark like this. His mind was already struggling to keep it together as it was. Wilford could feel it within his very core, the fight, the fear in his heart. He had to get him  _ out, now. _

Just as the mustached being turned the boy over and was about to hopefully gather enough energy to teleport somewhere far away from this mind fuck of a place, he heard a pained shout.  

One coming from The Host.

Wilford cursed, scoping the boy up into his arms and used as much energy as he could to teleport back to where he thought the two beings would still be fighting. In front of him was a full blown battle, everything he feared coming back to haunt him from such a long time ago, when it was The Author instead of Dark being controlled by the beast.

The Host had conjured up multiple versions of himself, all of them shooting all kinds of attacks at Dark, everything from some sort of fire to what looked like  _ actual  _ bullets from gun, whispering words at the speed of light under his breath. Besides the crashing  _ booms  _ and the screeches from Dark, whispers coming from the bandaged being filled the air like cicadas. It was almost creepy, reminding Wilford of the many horror movies he’s seen over the years.

The being was torn; did he put down the boy, who was half dead and just barely holding on, to go and help The Host? Or did he get as far away from this place as possible and leave the other to fend for himself?

His ADHD mind went to every possible scenario, both good bad, but he must have stood there for too long, because Dark saw him. The dark being’s red eyes instantly glued to him, growling lowly and threateningly. He was looking at Mark, not him, Wilford realized, eyes going wide.

The beast wanted Mark, wanted him all to himself, and would stop at nothing to get what he wants.

Wilford glanced quickly between Mark, Dark, and The Host, who looked a lot more exhausted and pained then he cared to admit, then back down to Mark.

He had a fucking idea.

Well shit. Here goes nothing.

“If you want him, come get him you shit tard!” Wilford called out, raising the boy up slightly in his arms. That seemed to do the trick, Dark’s eyes filling with rage and absolute fury. He instantly lost interest in The Host, charging straight for Wilford and Mark with what sounded like a battle cry.

Wilford moved fast, knowing he had only seconds before Dark would be right on top of him. The mustached being braced himself, teleporting just a few feet out of the way of the beasts path. Dark noticed this a little too late, tumbling right into the heart of the vortex, the magic singed him harshly, causing him to get back away as far as possible. Burn marks now covered his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice, all attention focused on the boy in Wilford’s arms.

_ “Wilford, what are you doing?!” _

The mustached being only shifted his eyes towards The Host, seeing how distraught and confused he looked. Blood was pouring from his eyes in rivers, staining his hands and coat. Any other time Wilford would drop everything and help his friend, but there was something much more important at stake right now than some blood.

“I’ll be bringing the party to you!” was the only thing Wilford replied with, not able to explain his idea with as little time as he had. “Just recover as much as you can!”

And with that, the mustached being yelled back at Dark to get all of his attention back. The beast howled, charging at Wilford again, red eyes becoming sickening to look at. Wilford swallowed the bile wanting to rise from the back of his throat, knowing he would have to time next moments very carefully…

_ “WILFORD!” _

Just as Dark lunged, ready to claw his eyes out with everything he had, Wilford teleported, and the beast with him, close enough to get caught in the little wirlpool that always formed when he teleported, sucking everything within a close proximity with him. It took a lot more concentration to do this than the mustached being thought it would, Dark instantly resisting to the teleporting.

Wilford grinded his teeth, putting everything into keeping the beast with him as pink and whipped around him. It’s never taken this long to get to one place to the other, but he had the feeling it was because of Dark’s resistance. Black tendrils snaked in with the pink, trying to break through the magic to control it, but Wilford remained strong. His plan must work, it had to. If he could just get the beast to the room where The Host was, where the bandaged being had all the power and upper hand, he could end this fight.

The problem was actually  _ getting  _ there.

The dark being screamed, more and more shadows trying to grab a hold, and Wilford screamed with him, hold on Mark tighter than ever. His head pounded with the force and energy being put into keeping the teleport together, but it was quickly falling apart into a losing battle. Wilford just couldn’t fight the beast alone, not one on one like this.

He had to keep trying.  _ “You… will… come with… me!”  _ the mustached being demanded, looking Dark dead in his red eyes.

**_“No,”_ ** Dark smirked, eyes glowing brighter.  **_“You’ll be coming with ME!”_ **

And in an instant, the pink turned into complete darkness, Wilford’s hold on everything shattering. Wilford yelled, mind filling with the evil of the beast as it redirected them to wherever he pleased. The mustached being felt broken, his one plan to defeat the beast crumbling in a second.

Mark groaned, and Wilford buried the boy’s head in his chest so that he wouldn’t see anything that could wear at his sanity even more than it already was. It felt like hours, but Dark finally dropped them both into whatever place he had teleported them too, Wilford dropping like a stone as Mark was ripped from his arms.

“MARK!” he called out, flying weightlessly through the air before all breath was forced from his lungs, pain spreading all through his back and body. He must have landed on the ground, a hard and unforgiving one at that.

The being coughed harshly, turning to his stomach to try and get onto his knees, when he froze in place.

In front of his was a deep, endless abyss, one that he very much recognized, and it was bringing back memories he had tried to suppress so long ago.

_ “BIM!” _

_ Wilford sprinted as fast as he could to the abyss, seeing Bim slowly being dragged into it by shadows and darkness. He forgot about the intense fighting being him, diving forward to catch the being’s hand just before he tumbled over the edge. _

_ “Wilford!” Bim cried, holding into the mustached being’s hand with all of his might. Fear was bright in his gold eyes, the shadows wrapping tighter around him, trying to pull him down. It was starting to drag Wilford as well, no matter how much effort he put into keeping the other being up. _

_ “You have to let go!” Bim sobbed, tears running down his cheeks. But the mustached being refused, finally being forced over the edge of the abyss. Just before they both fell, Wilford brought his knife out with a flash of silver, stabbing it clean through the rock of the pit, and suddenly they were just dangling over the darkness, nothing pulling on them anymore. The only thing that kept them from falling was that knife. _

_ Sweat was falling into Wilford’s eyes, glasses falling off his face, all of his strength going into keeping the other being up. The entire world shaked around him, rock and dust falling into his face, the sound of a terrible screech echoing through the entire caven, causing the knife to slip lower on the wall. _

_ Dark was up there all alone, facing The Author head on. He could hold him off, but not for long. Whatever kind of animal, whatever kind of  _ **_beast_ ** _ was inside Author, it would rip the dark being to shreds.   _

_ “We… have to… get back… up there…” Wilford strained, trying to lift up Bim while keeping a firm hold on the knife. The being below him gripped onto his striped sleeve as if to get his attention. Wilford looked back down at the being, trying not to focus on the dizzying darkness beneath. _

_ Bim’s gold eyes glowed in the partial darkness, a set look of determination and fear on his face. “You have to let me go,” he said again, and Wilford’s heart nearly busted out of his chest from how hard it was beating. Another roar made the cavern tremble, the shout of Dark loud and clear. _

_ “No Bim,” Wilford gasped, muscles straining. “I can’t! Everything will fall apart, Mark-” _

_ “You have to let me go! Either we  _ **_all_ ** _ die or  _ **_I_ ** _ die! Mark can’t live without all of us!” _

_ Wilford shook his head, eyes burning. He knew what Bim was trying to say, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t just  _ **_let go_ ** _ of Mark’s own humanity, not while The Author was like this, not while all of them could die- _

_ “I-I-I” Wilford tried, tears now falling down his face. His hand was becoming slick with sweat, and soon both he  _ **_and_ ** _ Bim would fall into the abyss. Then Dark would be all on is own, The Author killing him soon after. _

_ “Wilford,” Bim said gently, coaxing the mustached being to look down at him. They looked each other in the eye, some sort of understanding passing between them. _

_ “Take care of of everyone for me, alright? Can you promise me that?” asked the gold eyed being. Wilford nodded shakily, tears dripping onto Bim’s face, watching the being smile a sad smile. The mustached being committed the sight to memory, taking in every detail on the others face, knowing this would be the last time would ever see it. _

_ Wilford, unable to watch, turned his head unward to the high, endless ceiling. It was almost as bad as the abyss below. _

_ Closing his eyes, Wilford whispered, “I’m sorry,” before the harsh grip on Bim’s hand loosened into nothing, the weight slipping from him.  _

_ There was no scream, no sound. He was just swallowed up by the darkness, never to be seen again. _

Wilford gasped, tears streaming wildly down his face. The memories this place had were so awful, so terrible. He vowed never to come here again as long as he existed, but Dark must have had other ideas.

**“You remember this place, yes?”**

The mustached being growled, looking over his shoulder and away from the abyss, seeing Dark behind. His fangs were even longer now, reaching the end of his chin, red eyes smoking with unseen fire. 

**“I remember this place** **_very_ ** **well. This is where we fought The Author, where we defeated that nasty beast inside of him,”** he tilted his head, voice filling with venom.  **“Where** **_you_ ** **killed precious little** **_Bim.”_ **

Wilford didn’t reply, knowing he would get nowhere. He never told Dark, he had never even told The Host, that Bim had asked him to let go.  He could never bring himself to do it. He knew Dark blamed him for Bim’s death, but the mustached being blamed himself most days. He wondered if there could have been another way, a way that would have saved him.

He guessed it was a little too late for that.  __

Movement behind Dark caught his eye, and Wilford saw Mark, still passed out, right behind the Dark being.

Mark. He had to save Mark. He had to keep his promise to Bim.

The mustached being shakily got up, turning fully to face Dark, breathing heavily. He had to find a way to get rid of that beast within the dark being, even if his first plan didn’t work. He did it the first time, he could do it again.

“I have the feeling… that beast is back and within you, Dark,” Wilford told him, knife appearing in one hand. “I may be crazy, but I learn from my past.” He pointed the blade at the beast, feeling that age old stubbornness appearing. He would save Mark, he would get rid of that beast once and for all.

“What do you say? I think you and I have a score to settle, old friend.”  __

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	18. Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ello everyone! Almost to the end as you can see. Here's your 18th chapter~

Dark stared at Wilford for one long, drawn out moment, studying every square inch of the being. The mustached being didn’t flinch, didn’t move, just waiting for some kind of attack from the other, knowing he would get it sooner or later. Dark never step down from a challenge, and with that beast inside of him, it would be even harder to resist.

Wilford kept his knife up, seeing part of his reflection in the silver blade. He looked tired, bloody, and just about to break on command. He couldn’t do that now, not with Mark still in danger and no way to defeat the dark being… unless…

Then, Dark lunged speed that he shouldn’t have, and Wilford was about knocked over. He speedily teleported to the other side of the beast, taking his knife and stabbing it at him. The dark being was able to dodge the blunt of his blade, but his side was nicked, and black inchor started trickling down from it. 

Dark growled, swiftly turning around and swiping his claws at the mustached being, who ducked under it with surprising speed. Wilford sharply kicked Dark’s leg, knowing from past fights with him that it was a weak spot for him. Dark however, grabbed the leg before he was able to pull back, swinging the mustached being around like a whip before throwing him like a ragdoll.

All the air left Wilford’s lungs as he hit the walls of the cavern, something cracking in his back as he slid to the ground. The knife was gone from his hand, somewhere on the other side of the cavern.

The mustached shakily got up, wiping the blood from his mouth. Dark was smirking at him, confidence rolling off him in waves. He thought he was invincible, Wilford realized. He thought he couldn’t be beat.

Wilford fingers twitched, reaching for his knife within his mind and grabbing onto it, never actually bringing it through. If he could just surprise Dark, maybe bring him down a few-

Wait a minute. What if…

Wilford blinked. Once again, one of his crazier ideas (much like earlier, which didn’t go very well) but if it worked…

His eyes darted from Dark to Mark, who was still out cold and on the other side of Dark. The boy wouldn’t be in danger if he did it, right? It was his own imagination after all...  

And then there was the fact that Wilford had never done what he was about to try on this level; it had always been with small objects like his knife or gun, not an entire place. But, if he could somehow open a portal to the room where The Host was like his plan was before, where the bandaged being had nearly unlimited power, Dark could be taken down in a heartbeat. However, Wilford knew something like that would take time and concentration, and something told him that Dark wasn’t just going to sit there and watch him do it.

The mustached being reached for his knife again, this time grabbing ahold of it firmly and pulling it through and into his hand. He was so invested in thinking about how the Hell he was supposed to bring The Host’s weird imagination room to this place, that he didn’t notice Dark charging at him until the last second.

Wilford yelped, teleporting out of the way, feeling claws digging into his skin. When he came up behind the dark being, he saw that part of Dark’s talons had embedded into his skin, drawing red blood that ran down his arm. The mustached being ripped the talons out with a hiss, more blood pouring from the wounds.

**“Off in daydream land, are we?”** Dark chuckled, talons growing back into their full length.  **“I thought that was The Host’s job. Aren’t you supposed to be the** **_real_ ** **one? The one that prances through the real word, fucking everything up as you go?”** His aura lashed out, the blue freezing the air it touched while the red burned everything around it. Wilford brought up his own aura in defense, pink magic swirling around him.

“What it this, some sort of intervention?” Wilford snapped, but Dark ignored him.

**“You’re Mark’s personality and emotions, the thing that gives him life,”** the dark being went on, lashing out at Wilford again and again with both his talons and aura. It took most of the mustached being’s effort to guard against all of the attacks, Dark relentlessly going after him. The small, almost nonexistent part of his mind went into another task: bringing The Host’s room here. He would have to start small before he went big.

**“And yet if you get too close to him, you’ll put him in an insane asylum, and you should be in one yourself! Going around, killing people without a care in the world,”** he chuckled again, but Wilford could see the rage building up in his eyes. His hits were becoming harder, faster, and more sporadic. The mustached being did his best to ignore that last part, knowing how true it really was. He didn’t go most days without at least drawing blood on someone, but he couldn’t help it most of the time. There was always some sort of parasite in his mind, something bloodthirsty and trigger happy. He’s always been this way, but the past few years have been the worst, so bad that he’s been afraid to get too close to the boy in fear of spreading whatever madness inside of him to Mark.

**“You’re worse than The Author.”**

For whatever reason, that  _ really  _ caught Wilford off guard, his aura faltering just enough for Dark to get a good hit on his side with his own aura. The shock of both frostbite cold and desert sun hot ran through his nerves, and the dark being hit him again in the face.

Wilford gasped, trying to keep a hold of his concentration on the room, which had just started to enter his mind, the presence slipping more and more from his grasp. He was thinking so hard about it that Dark was able to hit him over and over again, waves and waves of pain shooting through the mustached being. He was stumbling back but he barely noticed, closer and closer to the edge of the abyss, further and further away from Mark, finally getting his mind a solid hold on the room once again.

Wilford’s aura came up weakly, doing it’s best to take on Dark’s, but it was a losing battle. He was too beat up, too focused on bringing the room here to really do anything. His knife was now gone and he couldn't bring it back to him, and the abyss was getting closer and closer.

**“You’re a pathetic excuse of a personality,”** Dark spat, claw ripping at Wilford’s arms.  **“You’re so scared of me that you have The Host, mere imagination, do your bidding! If you really cared about Mark like you so claim, you should have done something about the nightmares that nearly killed him every night, something about protecting him! You haven’t done** **_anything_ ** **to help him, and now,”** Dark shoved the mustached being to the ground, and Wilford could sense the never ending blackness right above his head. He was still trying to bring more and more of the room into his mind, but it was proving to be difficult. Apparently it was hard to bring an entire place into another place while you were being beat to death above a void that you could fall into and die from! Who knew?!

Dark was right above him now, red eyes sizzling, aura bending around him.  **“And now you’re at my mercy, pathetic as ever, still hoping for The Host and his powers of the mind to come and save you! What kind of protector** **_are you?”_ ** He was nose to nose with Wilford now, looking him right in the eye.

**“You know what I’m gonna do?”** he asked softly.  **“I’m gonna throw you into the abyss, where you’ll disappear forever. You’ll no longer be Mark’s personality, his emotions. You’ll just be a speck in the nothing, like I was for so long. You’ll finally get what you deserve, after what you did to** **_Bim_ ** **all that time ago.”** His eyes flashed, and Wilford felt a spark of anger in his chest for the dark being mentioning the lost being.

“Don’t you  _ dare  _ speak his name!” Wilford bit back. 

Dark growled, shadows around him growing.  **“I’ll say whatever I damn well please!”** Dark roared.  **And I’ll say this: I’m glad Bim’s gone! Mark doesn’t need his weak humanity to survive this world, all he needs is me-”**

But the dark being didn’t get the rest out, because suddenly, Wilford was on him, punching and clawing with all his might. He forgot about whatever promise he made to not hurt Dark, drawing blood and screaming the entire time. His vision went red, aura growing with new strength, everything set out on hurting the dark being over and over and over and  _ over- _

_ Wilford! _

The sound of The Host entering his mind was almost enough to completely snap Wilford out of his rage, but it didn’t. He didn’t even realize that he had finally broken through to the inside of the room and to the bandaged being.

The mustached being pushed in further, feeling the room’s power fill his veins. It was like nothing he had ever felt before, the raw power in every pore. This only spurred on Wilford, hitting Dark so hard in his arm that he heard a  _ CRACK! _

_ “How dare you!”  _ he yelled at the top of his lungs, aura whipping the dark being as he punched him again.  _ “How dare you say that you’re glad he’s gone, how dare you say  _ **_I’m_ ** _ the reason he’s gone, HOW DARE YOU!” _

Dark gasped harshly, more black inchor making rivers all across his skin. It was a delicious sight, seeing the once over confident being look so down and helpless. That beast inside of him would think twice about messing with Wilford Warfstache.

_ “And I am not just Mark’s personality!”  _ he added, feeling as if he needed to set the dark being straight.  _ “I am his heart, his love, his very core! Without me, Mark wouldn’t have any of the traits you claim to love him for. You kill me, you kill the boy!”  _ He grabbed Dark’s shoulders, shoving down to the ground much like he had done to him earlier.  _ “It’s  _ **_you,_ ** _ his dreams and nightmares, that feed him lies and hate! One moment you’re his sweetest dream, then you’re some kind of fucked up nightmare messing with his head just because you’re angry! And you think he’ll be so happy with  _ **_you_ ** _?!”  _ Wilford raised his hand, a gun appearing in it. Without thinking, he loaded it, pointing it in the dead center of Dark’s skull.  _ “You promised to help him, to keep him safe, yet here you are, hurting him! If anything, he could live his entire life without ever seeing you  _ **_again_ ** _!” _

_ WILFORD! _

Wilford blinked, finger on the trigger ready to pull. Dark was panting, red eyes flickering like a dying light, the beast struggling to keep a grip on the dark being. But he still had a hold. The beast had to get  _ out. _

The mustached being stumbled back, just realizing how close he was to just killing Dark. Would he have even died? It was hard to tell with beings like them.

_ You have to bring me there. I can get the beast out of Dark. _

“Get the beast… out of Dark…” Wilford said, shaking himself from the aftershock of his blind rage, just like all those years ago with The Author, but this time he didn’t rip anyone’s eyes out. “But what about… Mark?” The boy was still in the cavern somewhere, passed out and alone, covered in blood and injuries. “We have to get him.”

_ Leave Mark to me, just get me here. _

Wilford nodded, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the beast got back up, that it wouldn’t stop until it had what it wanted. The mustached being let his mind sink into the room, feeling every inch in his presence. His mind has never felt so full, so packed together, but he had to keep going. A splitting headache formed at the base of his skull, but he pushed on, feeling more and more of the room fill not only his being, but the cavern itself. Little specks of blue magic dotted the walls, the fires flickering.

He was so close. But it hurt, it hurt so  _ bad.  _ He had to keep going, had to keep  _ going- _

Wilford collapsed on himself, hands flying to his pounding head, glowing pink with strain. He could feel the presence of The Host’s imagination,  _ Mark’s imagination,  _ all around him, filling his body like static. It was almost there, all it needed was little push and-

The mustached being screamed, the room finally breaking over into the void with a  _ SNAP _ ! Wilford thought he could hear the beast screaming as well, it knowing what was about to happen to it, trying to get away with Dark’s broken body. Wilford grabbed the dark being’s hand, squeezing it as hard as he could.

“We’re going to get that beast out of you Dark, no matter what it takes, got it? The Host and I are going to make sure that parasite never comes back!” he wasn’t sure if Dark could hear him, but he didn’t care one bit. They could finally start placing Mark back together, vanquish the beast. They could do it. The mustached being laughed in relief, feeling the static around him shiver.

_ “I do believe you are right, Wilford,”  _ a voice said, and he turned to see The Host and all his glory.

_ “I think we have a beast to tame.” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	19. Song

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter! Here we go~

Everything hurt. Every nerve in his body on fire, making it hard to move anything. His back was the worst, white hot pain racing through the boy every time he shifted his weight. He moaned, wanting to turn onto his back and sit up, but knew just how bad that would be.

There was noises in the background, crashing and yelling, but other than that indistinguishable. The sounds swam in Mark’s head, making him dizzy and nauseous. His body wanted to fall back into whatever sleep he had just been in, but the boy refused, slowly lifting his hands into a push up position. His shoulders screamed in agony, and he almost collapsed again, but Mark managed, shakily pushing himself up on his knees.

The voices he heard earlier were starting to piece together into words. The person speaking was angry, booming voice ringing in Mark’s ears.

**“And now you’re at my mercy, pathetic as ever, still hoping for The Host and his powers of the mind to come and save you! What kind of protector** **_are you?”_ ** they snarled, the sound of sizzling in the air accompanying them. The voice sounded so  _ familiar,  _ the boy was positive he knew who it was, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. If he could just see the person…

That might prove to be harder than he thought, though. His vision was still swimming, what he thought were fires right in front of him, the shadows dancing creepily. Where  _ was  _ he? All he remembered was being chased by some sort of beast, a bunch of flashing colors, and then… nothing. Did someone save him? Was this the beast’s lair?

Mark didn’t know how long he stared at the dark walls around, not truly aware of anything going on around him, but another voice, much louder and high pitched than the first, bombing his ear drums.

_ “How dare you!”  _ they screamed.  _ “How dare you say that you’re glad he’s gone, how dare you say  _ **_I’m_ ** _ the reason he’s gone, HOW DARE YOU!” _

The boy looked around, confused about what was going on. Where were these two people? Who were they talking about, why were they important? He sure sounded important if it was enough to get this person so angry. 

Mark’s mind lost track of time again, each moment blending in with each other. It seemed that his mind was still trying to wake up from whatever sleep he had been in. Just how  _ long  _ had he been out? It was hard to say in this dark room.

Why were the floor and walls becoming sparkly? It was really pretty, but it didn’t make any sense in the slightest. The sparkles grew bigger and bigger, until they exploded out and covered everything. The boy didn’t even flinch, too dazed to really understand anything. The sparkles were more like snowflakes now, falling all around him in small piles. Mark picked up a handful of them, feeling their silky and light texture. It seemed to sooth his pain, a cool brush of wind moving through his body. It reminded him of another time, when someone made all of his pain go away with the touch of cold hands, but this didn’t feel the same. The cool was too light, to spread out. It couldn’t possibly be the same, could it?

Mark stood up all the way, now having the strength to do so, turning around himself to look at the world around him. It was so beautiful; the blue pieces swirling into elaborate shapes and being’s. He walked forward, holding his hands out to catch more of the snow like substance on his arms and face, giggling as he went. It all felt like a dream, something he was very familiar with.

The boy stopped suddenly, blinking rapidly to try and understand the thoughts going through his head. Wasn’t there someone, some sort of being that he saw in his dreams? Someone that singed and told him stories and showed him amazing creatures with every turn? Were they here? They must have been, after all, what other kind of being could create a place as magical and as wondrous as this?

The sound of moaning made Mark perk up again, tilting his head. Who was that? Was it the being he recalled from his dream? There was a possibility he thought, walking in the direction he heard the moan from. Maybe the being was in danger or hurt, and need his help. The boy broke into a run, trying to see through the mass of blue everywhere. What was at first beautiful was becoming an annoyance, especially since he could still hear the cries of pain and suffering.

Dark. That’s what his name was, wasn’t it? Dark, his beautiful being that made all the nightmares go away, the one that protected him from everything he feared-

And the one that hurt him.

Mark froze in place, everything rushing into his memories within a heartbeat, everything from the piano to the hospital, waking up and feeling nothing for weeks, wandering into the forest with someone whispering into his ear, being chased by a beast that looked like,  _ was,  _ Dark. Being saved by two mysterious people that vowed to save him, and the mass of colors blending together as they fought.

He was running to Dark, the being that tried to take him away from everything, the being that terrorized him and hurt him to try and get what he wanted. Did he really want to do that? What if he still had that beast inside of him, just waiting to be released?

The boy slowly stepped back from the direction he was going, a whimper echoing through the world. What sounded like chains rattled  against the ground, followed by a low growl. Mark stiffened, ready to bolt the other direction when he hear it.

_ “Only you can save him.” _

Mark looked up to the light blue sky as if he expected some being to fall from it. The voice was all around him, deep and monotone, and he recognized it. It was the voice that guided him through the forest and away from Dark and the beast, the glowing figure from the waterfall. A gentle wind passed through the world, and a shiver ran down the boy’s spine.

“Save Dark from… from the beast?” Mark questioned softly, not daring to speak louder.

_ “Yes, that beast inside his soul, it is a nasty thing, isn’t it? But you’ve banished it before, and you can do it again,”  _ the voice told him. The boy became confused at this, not sure what it meant by he has banished it before. Surely he would remember dealing with a monster that infected his closest friend, right?

But the more Mark thought about it, the more the whole thing did feel… familiar, like a broken record set on repeat. It wasn’t deja vu, but it was something like that. 

“But what do I do?” the boy asked, voice even quieter. “I… I don’t remember.” Tears started to prick at his eyes, frustration kicking in. He hated not remembering  _ anything,  _ how to get rid of the beast, what happened when he had that seizure, everything. Something kept stopping him from doing so, and he hated it, wished it would all go away and leave him be.

_ “... I think you’ll know.”  _ And with that the voice just… disappeared. Nothing left. 

Mark was alone again.

He had to stay strong for Dark, he had to get rid of that beast that plagued him. It was the only way things for the boy to get back to normal. 

Mark slowly walked forward, hearing more growls and cries, like an angry dog that had gotten scolded. It wasn’t long until he saw Dark in the blue, aura sluggishly pulsing around him like a dying heartbeat. He was covered in some sort of black blood, it running down his face chest and arms. The being’s hands were circled with glowing blue chains which disappeared into the ground, keeping him in and place and preventing him from standing up past his knees.

The boy held him breath. Dark hadn’t seen him yet, and for the moment, he wished to keep it that way. He could still see his eyes trying to bleed into that horrible red, meaning that beast still had some sort of control on him. It terrified Mark, knowing that thing could still hurt Dark, still make Dark do it’s biding. How on earth was _ he _ supposed to get rid of it?

The dark being noticed him at this point, eyes locking with his. For a few seconds, not a sound was passed between them, then Dark shot up, straining against the chain which held him fast. Mark stumbled back, eyes wide as he watched the normally composed and formal being reduced to an animal.

But he did this once, right? He could do it again.

“Hi… Dark?” he whispered to the being. The other didn’t seem to hear him, but Mark persisted, taking a step forward. That only seemed to make the beast strain even harder, even going as far as to claw at Dark’s wrists to get them free.

The boy walked until he was nearly face to face with Dark. This close to the being, he could clearly see the battle going on behind his eyes, the rapid shifting of red and black, both trying to dominate the other. Both sides were focused on him and nothing but him, wanting to reach out.

Dark, the  _ true  _ Dark, was still in there, wanting to break free.

“I-I know you’re in there, somewhere. I can help you get out, I think,” he continued, not sure where he was going with this. “I don’t like the beast. I miss you.”

That seemed to get it’s attention. Both the beast and Dark stopped fighting each other, just staring at the boy, part in confusion, part in anger. They both panted, chest rising up and down with each breath.

“You don’t even realize it’s in there, the beast, do you Dark? Well I do. It’s nasty and mean, and it makes you do things that scare me,” Mark got even close so that their noses were touching. “It made you chase me through the forest, as tall as one of the trees, talons that could kill me in a single swipe.  _ You  _ did that, but not really. It’s that thing inside of you, trying to tell you that you’re just trying to protect me when you’re actually hurting me.”

The black in Dark’s eyes was complete, not a speck of red in them. It was like when Mark first saw him, eyes beautiful and endless, soothing and safe. The beast was gone for the moment. The boy cupped his face, making sure all his attention was on him. 

“I miss you, Dark.”

The being’s eyes went wide, cool breath fanning Mark’s face. The chains went slack, no more strain against them. Dark was coming back, and the beast was going away, yet in the depths of those eyes, the boy could still see the faintest shade of red. Dark was here for now, but he wouldn’t be soon.

Without thinking, Mark began singing, keeping his voice low and calm, eye contact strong and intense with the being.

_ “When I’m tucked away in bed,”  _ he started, stroking Dark’s cheeks. The red in his eyes wanted to grow stronger at him singing, but suddenly it seemed that Dark had the upper hand on the beast.

_ “Eyes shut tight in the darkness,”  _ he continued, rocking back and forth as much as he could with the chains keeping the dark being down.

_ "When the visions inside my head, _

_ Become haunting and lifeless, _

_ I’ll just call your name, _

_ And you’ll appear by my side, _

_ You’ll give me sweet dreams, _

_ That they always try to hide, _

_ You’re my beautiful nightmare, _

_ Trapped within my soul, _

_ Your lullaby of the Dark, _

_ Shall forever be there, I always know.” _

Mark held his breath, watching the dark being’s reaction. He was still fighting the red, but it was a much clearer winner at this point. And now that he was paying attention to the rest of Dark’s body, there looked to be red seeping from his very pores. Now what was that supposed to be-

The boy jerked, suddenly being pulled back and away from Dark by some invisible force. Mark protested, reaching his arms out to try and grab the dark being, but the force was too strong and too fast.

But then, he saw it. Seconds after he was pulled away, Dark exploded into a cloud of shadows and red, all of it coming out of his mouth, ears, eyes, every cut in his body. The being was screaming, the very sound shaking the world, and you could hear the beast yelling out as well as it tried to latch onto Dark again, but failing. The outline of a monster in the red and black could be seen, and it was fading with every passing moment.

In a last act of desperation, the beast lunged for Mark, trying to enter his body, but the force blocked it like a shield, burning the beast. The last wails before it faded completely chilled the boy to the bone, watching as the beast became nothing more but a puff of smoke.

**“M-Mark,”** called out Dark weakly, reaching out to the boy with his hand. The chains were gone, causing the being to fall to the ground. Mark went to run to the dark being, only to be held back by the force once again.

“Let me go!” he yelled, trying to get out of the hold. “Let me go! Let me go! DARK!”

_ “I’m so sorry,”  _ said the voice from earlier right by his ear. Mark thrashed, screaming as loud as he could, trying to move any part of his body away from the force. It was dragging him back and away from Dark, farther and farther away from him.

_ “NO! NO NO! PLEASE!”  _ he cried, sobbing freely. Dark wasn’t even moving at this point, just laying there as if he were dead. He  _ had  _ to see he, had to know if he was okay, but this damn force wouldn’t  _ let him! _

_ “I’m so sorry,”  _ the voice repeated, darkness covering his vision like a blanket. Mark was dragged from the world, kicking and screaming the entire way.

Dark on the other hand, just watched him go, knowing he had done enough to last an entire lifetime. The dark being curled into a ball, listening to the screams.Tears silently rolled down his face, shoulders shaking.

**_“What have I done?”_ ** Dark whispered, so soft that it was merely a breeze.

**_“What have I done?”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


	20. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I guess... this is it, the last chapter in this long ass fic! This is the FIRST full length ANYTHING, fanfiction or otherwise that I've ever written, and I cannot express just how amazing everyone had been with the support! Thank you to all those who took a chance and decided to read this, it means a lot. And now, here's your 20th and final chapter. I've enjoyed every second.

Wilford stared down at the boy. There were no more scratches, no more evidence he had ever been hurt or had ever moved the entire night.  


The faintest rays or early morning light filtered into the small room, slowly combating against the darkness. Mark laid fast asleep, face peaceful and calm. You would have never guessed that anything in the past few months had ever happened. He would probably act like that as well, act like nothing had ever happened. The boy, at least according to The Host, wouldn’t remember a thing.  


It would be better that way.  


“How did you know?” Wilford asked quietly, keeping his gaze on Mark.

“How did The Host know what?”  


The mustached being scoffed, raising an eyebrow. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. How did you know Mark would be able to get the beast out of Dark, especially since that wasn’t what we did to get it out of you?”

From the corner of his eye, The Host shifted, pressing his lips together in a thin line. He seemed to consider the question for a long moment before answering. “The Host just knew. Dark needed to see and hear from Mark himself how Dark hurt him. He would not listen to The Host and Wilford.” 

Wilford sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He could hear the sounds of birds waking up and starting the new day now.  


“Will Mark be alright?” Wilford asked. It was more of a rhetorical question the more he thought about it, but he had to know. The boy didn’t react very well that last time they tried to take his memories away, and as Dark proved, the barriers holding them could be broken.  


The bandaged being sighed, fingers hovering in the air for a moment as he thought.  


“Mark will be alright,” he said. “But Dark may not be. Dark was possessed by the beast and he broke a bond. It might take him a long time to get back to normal.” The Host turned away from the boy and into the outside, the sunlight making the blond streak in his hair shine like gold. 

Wilford hummed to himself, rocking back and forth on his heels. Random thoughts and impulses tried to enter his mind, and he blocked them the best he could for the moment, but soon they would win. They always did, the madness in his mind never giving in. It was better when he was in Mark’s mind, when they both shared the burden of madness, but it was bad for the boy to be around it for long. In fact, this time had been the longest amount of time Wilford had been in Mark’s mind in a long time. If he had stayed there even longer, who knows what would have happened.

“Is the beast gone for good?” the mustached being questioned, a sour taste in his mouth as he asked. He would have loved to tear it piece by piece until it was nothing but ash, but he couldn’t do that. 

“The Host would like to inform Wilford that the beast will never truly leave Mark,” the bandaged being said plainly, like it wasn’t important in the slightest.

Wilford whipped around to face The Host, a look of simmering rage on his face. “What do you mean  _ it will never truly leave Mark?”  _ he hissed. “And why didn’t you tell me this  _ before?” _

The Host’s fingers stopped, tilting his head back. “That beast, despite what Wilford wants to believe, is apart of Mark just like he or Dark or The Host. It is all the bad things the boy could be, or even is,” he turned to face Wilford. “Believe what you want, Mark is not a little angel in disguise, as much as Wilford wants him to be. The beast is all his flaws and bad thoughts, rolled up into one horrible creature. The Host didn’t tell you because frankly, not even he knew about this until recently.”  


The mustached being stared at The Host for a good, long few seconds, trying to find any sign of him lying, but there was nothing. He was rarely wrong, except for the moments when he lied, that is.  


Wilford pushed away the thought that said he should kill The Host right then and there, squeezing his hand into a fist to feel his nails dig into his palms. Maybe Dark was right: what kind of personality was he supposed to  _ be?  _ If left unchecked, he could bring the boy to insanity with a simple thought. It was amazing that he hadn’t managed to do it yet, given all he’s done.  


“The Host thinks that Wilford should watch over the boy more from now on.”

The mustached being blinked in disbelief, not sure if what he heard was correct. The Host wanted him, a crazy killer that routinely listened to the voices in his head to watch over someone as fragile as  _ Mark?  _ What the Hell was that all about?

“If you really think that, then maybe  _ you’re  _ the crazy one, not me.”

The corner of The Host’s lips twitched upwords for a moment before returning back to their usual down expression. “The Host believes that it will help protect Mark, after all, the reason Dark went so long without without being stopped was because someone wasn’t watching him. This could be a… wall of sorts, to protect him.”  


“Can’t you do it?” Wilford snapped without realizing it. 

“The Host cannot leave Mark’s mind physically, but Wilford,” he placed his finger on Wilford’s chest. “Wilford can. You can protect Mark better than The Host ever could.”  


The mustached being considered this. As long as he stayed far enough away that the boy wouldn’t notice or feel his presence… in theory it should be fine. But Wilford knew his own mind, how it thought, how it would pressure him to get closer to Mark and to do many things. 

But he could resist it. He’s done it before, and if it meant protecting to the boy, he could do it again.  


“Okay,” he whispered. “I’ll try.”

A small, sad smile appeared on The Host’s face, like he knew that there were hardships ahead, even if they hadn’t already happened yet. Wilford hated when he did that, knowing that the bandaged actually  _ did  _ know the future, at least in a sketchy, not quite clear version of it that was forever changing.  


“The Host knows that Wilford will do a good job. The Host will also help as much as he can, even if he cannot be there physically,” The Host put his hand on the mustached being’s shoulder, as if it trying to be comforting. Wilford didn’t push it away, but it sat there like a piece of lead. 

“I know,” Wilford said quietly. He took another look at Mark, watching his chest rise and fall steadily. Sure, he would love to see him every day, but there was still that lagging fear that something would go wrong. Every time any of them got close to the boy, disaster stuck, and it struck  _ hard.  _ There was no telling what could happen, even if Wilford did keep his distance. He faced The Host again, shrugging off his hand and telling him, “I’m going to check on Dark.”  


The Host pressed his lips together into a thin line, nodding shortly in acceptance. Wilford didn’t wait any longer, melting into the corner of Mark’s mind where Dark was, a empty and desolate place. 

The dark being was in the middle of it all, chains of light blue around his wrists, much weaker than the ones from before, but still strong enough to keep him down. He didn’t have the beast in him anymore, yes, but you never knew what was going on in Dark’s head, and for all they knew, the beast was still somehow controlling him. Wilford didn’t like keeping Dark locked up like this, but for now, it was necessary.  


Dark didn’t seem to notice him at first, limbs remaining slack and lifeless as his black eyes stared into the nothing around him. The mustached being felt a pang of pity looking at him, seeing the black blood that still oozed from his wounds run down his face and ruined suit. His aura was barely moving, the hum so low that it might as well have been nothing. Black cracks could be seen moving under his skin like a snake, shifting his very bones and features as Wilford stood there, the after curse that came with breaking a bond. It must have hurt like a sonofabitch, but the dark being stayed motionless and unreactive, a dead corpse in the middle of nowhere. It disturbed Wilford a little, seeing that he’s dumped many of dead bodies in deserted areas to keep then hidden. Dark looked just like that; left to be forgotten and rot while the killer got away scot free. 

Wilford coughed into his hand, trying to get the image out of his mind. “Hello, Dark,” he addressed, hoping to catch the others attention. The dark being merely blinked, that being the only indication that he heard the other at all. The cracks under his skin thickened, the snapping of a bone echoing through the world, and Wilford flinched. Dark exhaled through his nose, but otherwise didn’t do anything else to show pain.    


“You still doing alright, old chap?”

Once again, no reply. Wilford supposed it was a stupid question anyway, given the others predicament. But what kind of conversation are you supposed to make here, with the things that just happened between them? He knew he said he would check up on Dark, but now, he wasn’t so sure. What if he came back one day and the dark being was gone, faded from existence? Then Mark would be left without not one, but two critical parts of himself. They were already struggling without Bim to give him humanity, but without his dreams or fears, he’ll be nothing but a blank piece of paper, nothing to trigger his imagination and no way to make a personality. They were all connected that way, one couldn’t do their job without the other two. Sure, Wilford and The Host managed while Dark wasn’t able to form for a long time, but that’s when they knew he would eventually come back. There was no coming back from fading.  


Bim was enough to prove that.

Wilford stepped forward, his footsteps muffled by the inky ground below his feet. It was surprisingly cold he noticed, not sure how he didn’t realize it before. The mustached being half expected there to be frost on the ground like there was in the real world, but this wasn’t the real world. This was the inside of a young boy’s mind in one of the darkest corners, a prison for the most horrible beasts and beings, which at the moment, just so happened to be his own dreams and nightmares personified.    


The mustached being crouched down, getting as eye level as he could with the darker being. The others void eyes didn’t see him, looking past as if he was invisible. There was some sort of recognition in them, a small sign of life, but it was almost nonexistent. Wilford reached his hand out as if to touch him, but pulled back, not sure what he would do. Straighten the ruined tie around his neck? Try to stop the blood rolling down from his injuries? Comfort him?  


Wilford sighed heavily, searching for anything in Dark’s eyes that resembled life. It was there in a way, but it was deeply glazed over. The being was so far into his own thoughts that he hardly processed the world around him, including Wilford, who was nose to nose with him.

“Mark’s doing fine, if you want to know.”  


That seemed to awaken a small part in Dark, his pupils twitching towards Wilford’s voice. The mustached being smiled grimly, telling the other all the details he could think of. 

“Yeah. He has some scarring, but The Host took care of that willy nilly, so nothin’s on him now. The beast is gone too but,” he paused, not sure if he should say the part about it being apart of Mark like he or Dark. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things it felt like. He didn’t finish that thought, moving on. “Hosty thinks I should watch him more, protect him and such. Someone needs to til’ you get better, right?” Wilford chuckled, trying to make the air lighter. Dark’s eyelids fluttered once, and the other took it as a good sign.  


Wilford felt his own mood darken, however, watching the cracks under Dark’s skin move around like a colony of ants. Being this close to the other, he could hear them moving and snapping bones like it was nothing, a punishment for breaking his promise to help protect Mark. He did exactly the opposite, didn’t he? All because of that damned beast.  


And now, Dark was being reduced to nothing but a bag of broken bones. His posture wasn’t near as straight and perfect as it once was, shoulders not quite in place, neck sticking out at an odd angle. Having wounds and injuries wouldn’t exactly kill being’s like them, but it would hurt like a bitch until it healed, and with a curse like this, it probably never would.  


Wilford wanted to feel empathy for the other, he really did, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t. Dark  _ hurt  _ Mark, and badly. He tried to kill Wilford and The Host, all in the name of keeping the boy all to himself. Yes, the beast did control him for the most part, but it was still Dark’s hand, his words, his presence, his darkest thoughts brought to life. He made the promise, he broke it, and in the end, there was no one to blame but himself.  


“I hope you’re happy,” Wilford couldn’t stop himself from saying bitterly. “For hurting me, The Host, saying that Bim deserved to die, for letting that beast take a hold of you, and doing it all in the crazy idea that  _ you  _ were the only one that could possibly protect Mark. I hope it was worth all the pain, the pain that we’ve all been through before and  _ tried to avoid again.”  _ He looked over Dark’s broken body again. “His mind nearly  _ shattered  _ because of you. Mark could have  _ died.  _ That beast could have taken him and then discarded you like gum off the bottom of his shoe,” the mustached being stood up from where he was crouched, looking off into the blank distance. He didn’t regret saying what he said. Every word was true, and Dark knew it, even if he didn’t acknowledge it.  


“I guess I’ll have to protect Mark from you now, eh?” Wilford jokes. “You’re a liability, a ticking bomb waiting to blow up in everyone's faces.” There was no sound from the dark being, but Wilford could sense his mind working, something like concealed anger and despair. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.  


The mustached being sighed again.  


“I hope you get better Dark, I really do. Mark can’t go through those nightmares again, it’ll hurt him more than any of us would like to admit. But for now,” he took one last, good look at Dark. “For now you have to stay here. Maybe you’ll figure out where you went wrong… you’ll figure out how to deal with whatever sick pleasure you got from hurting us and keeping Mark for yourself. I don’t know if you will or not,” he turned around, walking away from this dark corner of the boy’s mind and towards the outside world.  


“Goodbye, old friend.”

Just before Wilford left completely, he heard the faint words,  **“goodbye Wilford.”**  


Dark stared at the space where the mustached being just was, mind muddled with pain and thoughts. His bones cracked, shifting into a new place, and he allowed himself to wince, just this once. The cracks under his skin were becoming vines, growing longer and thicker with each moment, disfiguring him even more.  


He deserved this. Every last moment of the pain for what he did to Mark.  


Mark. That was his only ache, to see the boy once again, to hold him and to tell him how sorry he was, that he loved him with all of his heart. But he couldn’t do that, not while he was chained here.  


That damned beast. He should have never let it control him the way it did. He should have never said what he did about Bim. He shouldn’t have done so many things, and yet he did, and now he lived to regret all of them.  


The worst part? He could still hear the beast in his head. It didn’t control him anymore, it wasn’t there anymore, but if felt like the ghost of his presence was still speaking in his mind, edging him on. This must have been what The Author felt, being manipulated like that, putty in the beasts hands.  


Another spike of pain, in his spine this time. Dark grinded his teeth, keeping every muscle still and unmoving. He would not be beaten by some pain, even if he knew deep down that it would never go away. It was curse. It lasted as long as it wanted to. It would make sure he was snapped and tortured until he was nothing but broken bones.  


**_“When you’re tucked away in bed,”_ ** Dark started singing, voice cracking and dry.  


**_“Eyes shut tight in the darkness,_ **

**_“When the visions inside your head,_ **  


**_“Becoming haunting and lifeless,_ **

**_“Just call my name,_ **  


**_“And I’ll appear by your side,_ **

**_“I’ll give you sweet dreams,_ **  


**_“Than they always try to hide,_ **  


**_“I’m your beautiful nightmare_ **  


**_“Trapped within you soul_ **  


**_“The lullaby of the Dark-”_ ** he cut himself off, tears streaming down his face. He didn’t deserve to sing this song, a song that Mark associated with happiness and security. The cracks seemed to protest as his singing, sending spikes of white hot pain through his body in retaliation. The dark being shook from the pain, shoulders trembling and tears burning the corners of his eyes.  


**_“Shall-shall-”_ ** Dark tried, the pain becoming worse. But he was stubborn. He would  _ not  _ be this curse’s bitch. He will stand his own. He  _ will  _ see Mark again one day, and when he does, he’ll protect with everything he had.

Dark growled to himself, pushing through the pain until he finally whispered.  


**_“Shall forever be there, always know.”_ **  


And he simply fell to the empty ground, withering and gasping. The pain was more bearable now, at least to him it was. He turned to his back, not caring about the shifting bones.  


**“I hope you all can forgive me,”** Dark choked out, letting himself sink into his thoughts and the darkness and the nothing.  


_  
_

  
_ In the abyss of nothing, even further down in the cavern, two red eyes could be seen glowing in the darkness. It knew it was defeated this time, but it wouldn’t be stopped so easily. It  _ **_would_ ** _ have what it wanted, even if it had to wait 100 years for it. _

_ But for now, it faded it’s consciousness went to nothing, waiting for the next time it could rise to take over once again.   _ __   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I do plan on making a sequel and a prequel, but I have NO idea when that's going to be. My summer is coming up, so my life is about yo get really busy, and I have a few things I want to write before I write those. Once again, thank you, and I hope you've loved Sweet Dreams, Beautiful Nightmare.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> ~Magical_Devil_Alex


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